


Restitution

by trubiubi10



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Background Ella Lopez/Michael, Crime, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25456306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trubiubi10/pseuds/trubiubi10
Summary: What if Trixie convinced Chloe to stay in LA after seeing Lucifer's Devil face? New enemies arise, one in the form of an old friend, and another a serial killer hellbent bringing Lucifer to celestial justice in the name of God.Cross-posted on FF.net
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Ella Lopez/Michael
Comments: 133
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you enjoy my story! Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. Thanks for reading!

_"It's true… it's all true."_

Her words rang in Lucifer's ears. Evidence of his attempts to drown out the memory lay strewn about the room. The man himself sat at the grand piano, a half-finished whiskey lowball and blunt in hand, attempting to create music that no longer came to him.

"AAARGH!" He stood as the glass exploded across the room. No matter. Material items were the least of his worries. His hard breathing was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the Bösendorfer's surface, reading 'Dr. Linda'. He ignored it. His senses refused to work, the ringing in his ears and blackness invading the fringe of his vision. A strangled sob materialized, surprising Lucifer. _Is that…?_ With a tentative hand, he felt unfamiliar dampness diffuse across his stubble. He rubbed the residue of tears between his thumb and forefingers, hardly breathing. Chloe… the only being that has made the Devil cry. He choked out a laugh and reached for another glass behind the bar. This one should do the trick.

Before he could take his first sip, his phone buzzed again, this time from Mazikeen. He groaned and placed the base of his drink against his forehead, only several seconds prior to the elevator doors opening to reveal the bandaged and bloodied demon herself.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I could say the same." She glanced briefly at his current state, eyeing his disheveled and bullet-ridden Armani suit. The familiarity of the Devil's wrath was the only thing holding her back from inquiring about his puffy eyes and smudged eyeliner. "But I won't, because I don't care." Maze helped herself to a glass. The deafening silence was broken only by the clinking of their glasses and an absent "cheers". All was forgiven, they supposed wordlessly.

* * *

Chloe ran, her heart pumping almost as fast as her feet were hitting the pavement. _Take Trixie and run_. She yanked open the driver's side door of her cruiser and turned the key. Her sirens blare as she pulled away from the curb, leaving tire tracks in her wake. _W_ _here to first? Home to pack? Quit my job? Pick Trixie up from school?_

She narrowly avoided a collision at the next intersection, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Her tires screeched into the turnaround of Palm Crest Elementary and she bolted out of the car with the open door and dinging chime ignored. At the entrance of the double doors, she paused to collect herself in the reflection of the windows. _Pull yourself together._ The breeze picked up her hair, bringing her attention to the goosebumps that refused to disappear despite the Los Angeles heat. With one last breath, Chloe convinced her shaking hands to open the doors and step up to the office window.

"Chloe Decker," she flashed her driver's license. "I need to pick up my daughter. We've had a family emergency," she lied smoothly, inwardly thanking her mother for all the acting classes.

The man looked up at her quick entrance, startled. "I'm so sorry to hear that," he responded with an earnest expression on his face. "What's your daughter's name?"

"Beatrice Espinoza Decker."

The keys clicked as his fingers danced across them. _Go faster._ She felt the blood pounding in her forehead.

"She's in her art class at the moment. Do you know where the studio is?"

Luckily she did, and took off at her brisk soccer-mom pace before she could thank him. Images of red eyes and flayed crimson skin flashed in front of her as she sped along, making her breath hitch and feet spill out from under her. With one arm she leaned against the wall, eyes closed and near tears. _Not the time, Chloe. Trixie first._ Cajoling herself into false composure, she walked on.

Ten minutes later, Trixie was sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of her car as Chloe drove the familiar route home. "What's going on, mommy?" she asked.

"We're going on a vacation, monkey, isn't that exciting?" Chloe said, keeping her eyes on the road and deliberately away from her daughter.

Unfortunately for her, Trixie narrowed her eyes to peer at her mother and crossed her arms, dissecting her cheery tone. "I don't believe you. What happened? Is Lucifer okay?"

A breath escaped her without permission and her eyes shut as briefly as driving would allow, wondering what she did to deserve a child this shrewd. Chloe felt her brain short-circuit at the mention of the man, a myriad of conflicting emotions closing in around her. Fear and betrayal, she could identify for sure. But… _what else was it that remained_?

" _I am the devil_ ," he had claimed, citing utmost transparency.

" _Not to me_ ," thinking back to how naïve she had been. She even _kissed_ him.

The deep brown eyes she equated to safety and comfort flashed red, and perfectly coiffed dark hair shifted to inflamed fissures in her mind. This has to be a nightmare. She pulled into the driveway just in time to avoid the question.

"Go pack your things."

Trixie rolled her eyes and got out of the car intentionally slow, grabbing her bedazzled backpack along the way. Echoes of her shoes stomping harshly on the concrete to the front door were heard around the complex.

The refreshing air conditioning hit Chloe as she entered. Everything was exactly the way she left it. Why did she feel so surprised the world was still the same? Was it even real? Did she actually see what she thought she did? _Is Lucifer actually the –_

"Mommy, where are we going? Can't Lucifer come with?" Trixie's voice came from her room, along with no audible signs of packing.

Chloe walked toward her room and leaned against the door frame deliberating how much to tell her daughter. Trixie was way too smart for her own good... a shadow of the truth would be better than nothing. As she stepped through the doorway, she glimpsed the "No boys allowed" sign, with "except Lucifer and Daddy" scribbled below. Her heart skipped and nausea threatened to take over. How did he convince her daughter to adore him so much? Did he trick her? Why Trixie?

"Monkey," she started, moving to sit on the painfully bright bedspread of the 9-year-old. "I learned something about Lucifer today." She looked down at her fiddling hands, the pause becoming increasingly longer.

Trixie's eyebrows raised. "And? I learn new things in school all the time. I don't need to go on vacation."

Chloe closed her eyes, the clock ticking loudly, a pleading reminder of her desperate attempt to run. _We need to go_ , she thought as she meticulously planned out her next words. "It scared me, monkey. He's not the same person I thought we knew."

Trixie huffed in disbelief. "It's _Lucifer_ , Mom," she said. "He's just a shoe."

Everything screeched to a halt, the ticking of the clock and her heart going silent, her breath echoing in her ears. _It's just Lucifer_. Images of her partner swam in front of her eyes, of them playing monopoly on this very floor with a unicorn painted on his cheek courtesy of Trixie, his pure glee when Trixie listed Lucifer first on her "no boys allowed" sign ahead of her ex-husband Dan, and his roguish charisma as he paraded proudly around the precinct. How could she compare her partner, the man she knew and loved, to the Devil that appeared before her?

"Mommy, don't cry." Chloe sensed the wetness moving down her cheeks too late. Eyes closed, she distantly recognized her daughter's small arms around her, the numbness she held at bay finally taking over. Silently, the tears continued on their steady course with no signs of relenting.

Her daughter's innocence was astounding, for who could love the Devil?

Trixie could.

* * *

Lucifer's irritation grew as his phone continued to buzz. He gripped his hair in exasperation as he lounged on his Italian leather sofa. Linda was relentless. His blank stare gazed about the penthouse, the bottles remaining untouched from his binge, undergarments of nameless people left hanging in odd places. The last several days were a blur of drinking, drugs, and meaningless sex with faceless men and women. None of them filled the Chloe-shaped hole in his chest, the physical ache only increasing. Had it been only days ago? Or weeks? He shrugged, his red silk robe falling from his left shoulder. His favorite Armani suit he wore that day was dropped carelessly on the floor, ruined not only from the bullets but by the image of her once warm and inviting eyes dilating in shock. It was his last vivid memory. _Thank you, LSD… or was it MDMA this time?_

His phone interrupted his emerging itch to return to hell. He couldn't remember the last time Daniel Espinoza willingly phoned, especially now that he blamed Lucifer for Charlotte's death. Her murder was committed by Cain and Cain alone; he refused to take responsibility.

Forcing his usual cheery tone heard often at the precinct, he answered, "Hello, Daniel, called to - "

"You're needed at the station to give a statement."

"Needed, you say?" a self-satisfied grin emerged on his face. "It's not the first time I've heard that line, Detective Douche, but from _you_ , well color me surprised."

Lucifer could all but hear him counting to ten before replying, "Do you want to be arrested for murder?"

"I have always enjoyed my time in handcuffs, Daniel, I'm sure my quality of life will hardly be affected. It may actually improve, considering the circumstances." He absent-mindedly brushed crumbs from the night before off his robe.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit, man. Come down to the precinct and give your statement, or else they're bringing in Chloe. I don't know about you, but that's the last thing she needs after witnessing her ex-fiance's murder, by her partner no less."

"No need to be petulant, sir Douche. I will see ewe in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Get it? That was one of my better- "

Click.

He stared at the blinking 'Call Ended' underneath 'Detective Douche' on his screen. "…and to think I was considering changing your title."

* * *

Several days passed since Trixie convinced Chloe to remain in Los Angeles. Presently, Chloe sat hunched at an old desk under the stairs in her neighbor's basement. Empty coffee mugs, and rings on the desk to match, were lost in piles of books and papers scattered in a questionably organized fashion around her. The small lamp pushed into the corner of her desk fought off the encroaching darkness. Chloe put her head in her hands after taking in the sheer amount of books surrounding the room. God? Satan? Religion? Pfft, she knew only as much as the one Easter service she went to at the age of thirteen. Thank God for the retired priest a few doors down. Seeing the brightening eyes and upturned lips of the lonely old man when she knocked on the door was the only fleeting glimpse of light in this new hell.

"What can I do for you, my dear?" the hunched short frame appeared at the entrance.

"Hi, Father Hughes? I'm not sure if you remember me. I – I live a few doors down," she stammered. "Do you… have a minute?"

"Most certainly, I have many minutes," he chuckled. "Please come in, come in."

Chloe shut the door for the old man as he shuffled slowly away, leading her into the living room filled with plastic-covered furniture not unlike her own grandparents'. After assisting the old man with settling into his worn recliner, she seated herself onto the squeaky couch. The grandfather clock ticked quietly from across the room, heard barely over the running air conditioner. She adjusted her position, her seat groaning in protest, and cleared her throat.

The bulbous eyes examined her through his dense prescription bifocals from across the room. "Now, what can I help you with, young lady?"

Chloe moved to the edge of her seat and folded her hands to keep them from moving. "Do you know…" she looked down at her hands. Where was this anxiety coming from? She has sat in strangers' houses before, delivering the worst news possible to next of kin on a frequent basis. This wasn't new. She inhaled quickly and allowed the tension to release from her shoulders as she exhaled. "I was hoping you could tell me about the Devil."

The glasses exaggerated his eyes as they widened like he was drawn from a cartoon. "Ah," he breathed, "The prince of darkness and father of lies, himself. You have a dangerous interest."

"Uh-huh," she tittered, filling the awkward silence that formed. He paused, expressive eyes squinting. She anticipated further questions, but he didn't press her.

"I have books downstairs. I am too old to get to them, and my children aren't around often enough to help me clear them out. You're more than welcome to use them. Keep them if you wish, books are meant to be read, after all." He smiled, revealing pearly whites that must be dentures.

"I… yes, thank you so much, Father Hughes."

The first night was the hardest. Images of old paintings overwhelmed her vision, revealing variants of hoofed beasts, warped winged horrors, and tortured humans writhing under the claws of the Devil. Her breath quickened as she rifled through the pages, desperate to find proof that this is not all that he is, that she did not allow herself to be fooled by this... _creature_. The weight of the stifling air forced its way into her lungs, suffocating her rather than providing her with fortitude.

Despite her fatigue, sleep did not come to her that night.

Chloe returned the next day prepared. Avoiding images altogether, she read page after page of debated history that she now knew to hold a modicum of truth. Hosts of unfamiliar vocabulary flooded her brain. What is an archangel? Nephilim? Seraphim? Samael? Enochian? She rubbed her eyes before returning to the book, stopping at the title 'War in Heaven' written in bold gothic print at the top of the page. Words stood out to her; Michael, heavenly host, and... "the dragon was cast out, that old serpent called the devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him."

Their first kiss on the beach last year before he ran to Vegas came to her mind... was she deceived?

Sleep didn't come to her that night either.

And there she was, days later, hiding in Father Hughes' basement from the Devil himself. A yawn forced its way out. How late was it? Consciousness fluctuated, the screen becoming blurry before her, and her eyelids becoming heavy. Before she could succumb to sleep, Chloe heaved herself out of her chair with a grunt and forced herself to stumble home with books stacked high in her arms.

Did she know religion? No, but "murder boards", on the other hand, she knew. Upon her arrival, Chloe opened her bedroom door to reveal the most massive murder board she had ever created, covering the expanse of her bedroom with pictures, quotes, and any materials she could get her hands on. Lucifer was a puzzle, just like any of her perps. Like every time she walked into her room, she immediately focused on the center of the 'board' where his picture hung, his smiling face looking toward the ripped half where her face should have been. His name, 'Lucifer Morningstar', was titled below. Tonight, however, she crossed out his self-appointed name and wrote 'Samael, archangel of light and music'. Dots started to connect in her head. The name of his club, 'Lux', and his last name 'Morningstar' weren't meaningless... they were an attempt at grasping on to the shadows of who he once was before his fall. After all, 'lux' was Latin for 'light' and his self-appointed name of 'Lucifer' was 'light-bringer'." Is this who he was before he fell? No matter how long she looked, she couldn't reconcile the dichotomy of _who_ she knew and _what_ she knew.

But... what was she looking for? Proof of what?


	2. Chapter 2

Dan Espinoza arrived at the station early Monday morning, several days following the strangest crime scene he had ever witnessed during his twelve years as a member of the LAPD. Due to the nature and complexity of the scene, the process had been sped up, placing the department under even more strain. However, the relaxed early morning chatter had yet to reflect the stress that Dan was under...

Until the laboratory scientist arrived.

"Oh my God, Dan, have you seen this?" Ella's hands flailed with the papers as she talked. "I had the feathers from the loft analyzed, and I got zilch. _Nada_. I even had them sent to ornithologists at the Los Angeles Zoo, and they - "

"You sent to... _what_?"

"Ornithologists? Oh, bird experts. They didn't even know what type of animal they came from, I mean they're too big to be from any bird we know of. And that's not even the weirdest part. The blood on them wasn't from any known animal, and it definitely wasn't human blood either."

Dan sank into his chair. "The building was abandoned, someone could have been hiding away some rare illegal pet," he scrambled for a possible explanation.

"Not like this," she snorted. "Based on the length of the primary feathers, the wingspan has to be at least twenty feet from wingtip to wingtip. _At least_."

Confusing, but not directly tied to the murder of Marcus Pierce. "What else you got?"

"One bullet casing from a 9mm, most likely Pierce's and tons from multiple assault rifles. There had to have been hundreds on the floor. I mean, how did Lucifer and Chloe survive that?"

 _How indeed..._ Dan looked across the station through the glass doors of the new interim Lieutenant's office, Lt. Marion Brown. Her first day at the precinct found her in her dress blues, awards and ranks marking her left shoulder, distinguishing her from the rest of the force. _She has no idea what she's in for_ , Dan thought as the stern looking woman stood from her desk to make her way to the foot of the stairs, turning to address the members of the station who had just trickled in.

"Can I have your attention, please?" She announced rather than asked, waiting until the hubbub settled down.

"My name is Lieutenant Brown and I will be your acting lieutenant until a permanent replacement is found. Although this precinct has demonstrated some of the highest closure rates in the city, the recent news of your previous Lieutenant being involved in and leading a crime syndicate will result in increased scrutiny of your proceedings."

Whispers erupted across the floor. She continued authoritatively, "We will be working together to thoroughly investigate the crime scene and break down the remainder of his operation. I look forward to closing this case and working with you all."

Employees shot her sideways looks as they broke away in groups, most likely to gossip about the new Lieutenant. Or, Dan assumed, about Chloe's yet again failed relationship with a fellow cop. The Lieutenant's voice again filtered through the white noise, "I need to speak with Daniel Espinoza."

He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to hear his name. Either way, Dan had to push through a few people before reaching her. "That's me, Lieutenant."

"I understand you've worked closely with Detective Decker and Lucifer Morningstar, the civilian consultant?"

"That's correct, Lieutenant."

"Please call them into the station to give a statement. We need to close this case quickly."

"Yes, ma'am. Understood."

"I have to ask..." she stopped him before he could walk away, partially turned toward her makeshift office. "How does a fairly well-known nightclub owner become a civilian consultant for the LAPD?"

Dan mentally applauded the woman for noting the absurdity of the situation. "Beats me, Lieutenant."

Her brows furrowed. "They have the highest solve rate out of anybody here, I suppose we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

 _Actually, please do_ , Dan thought as Lieutenant Brown walked briskly away, leaving Dan to his distasteful task. Speaking to Lucifer was always an unfortunate necessity... the man hardly listened and marched to the beat of his own drum. With distaste, Dan pulled out his phone and bit the bullet.

Lo and behold, Lucifer waltzed into the building several hours later sporting a jet black designer suit worth more than Dan's salary, the emerald silk handkerchief providing a small pop of color. The square in his pocket was an unnecessary accessory though, as he soon sported Ella's entire frame wrapped around him in delight.

"Lucifer! You're back!" Ella exclaimed, ignoring Lucifer's discomfort. His eyes were wide, leaning away from the short woman and awkwardly patting her on the head.

"Hello to you too, Ms. Lopez -"

"Dude, what took you so long?" Dan approached him before Ella could get a word in, releasing Lucifer from her grip.

"I know you're not familiar with perfection, Daniel, but surprisingly it does take some time to attain it," he adjusted his jacket and cufflinks before turning to Dan. "Is that why you're so early every day?"

 _God, how does Chloe work with this man?_ "The Lieutenant wants to speak with you," he said, glaring, and walked to his desk without a backward glance.

"Well now," Lucifer breathed, "Shall we?" With a gesture and a nod toward the office, he allowed Ella to lead the way.

"Ma'am?" she knocked on the open door. "Lucifer's here."

"Good, thank you," she stood from behind her desk and halted at the sight of the unexpectedly handsome man before her, exuding confidence and sex appeal. Lucifer grinned back, eyes gleaming. "You're free to go, Ms. Lopez," her voice came faintly, eyes locked on Lucifer.

" _Hello_ , Lieutenant," his eyes scanned his superior from head to hip, where her body disappeared behind the desk, not hiding his intentions. "Might I say, it is very... _pleasurable_ to meet you," he purred with a respectful nod of his head, the predatory look remaining in his eyes. Dan watched through the glass doors with incredulity as the near middle-aged woman lapped up the attention. Her laughter became audible as they emerged from behind the doors, heads together like schoolgirls before they disappeared behind the doors of the interrogation room.

An agonizing eternity passed, but Lucifer and the Lieutenant still remained in the room. Dan glanced around briefly to see if anybody would notice if he stepped inside the room adjacent, behind the one-way glass, to hear the elaborate web Lucifer was spinning. Whistling nonchalantly, he made his way across the shared office space to find Ella already inside.

"What's he saying?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "I have to say, his method-acting is on point. And she's just eating it up."

Dan could hear Lucifer's routine question, "And what do _you_ truly desire, Lieutenant?" coming through the speakers, the hypnotism of his eyes bulldozing over any remaining control she had left. He didn't want to hear this answer. This woman was a well respected and seasoned member of the Los Angeles Police force. She didn't deserve to be broken down, stripped of her self-respect and dignity, to reveal her innermost thoughts and desires to a man using her for his own gain. His blood boiled at the thought.

"I can't watch this," he said and walked out before Ella could respond.

Lucifer and Lieutenant Brown emerged from interrogation after what seemed like hours, stopping outside of her office for an unnecessarily long goodbye. Not soon enough, Lucifer strode towards Dan with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"It's all taken care of, you're welcome," Lucifer announced, acknowledging Dan with a brief bend of his torso.

"What's all taken care of?"

"Why, she's closing the case, of course," he said with delight.

"What?" Dan snapped. "We need to know who else was there to track down the rest of Pierce's gang -"

"It's over, the Detective doesn't need to be involved in this any longer."

 _How could he claim to care?_ Dan spent ten years with Chloe, through marriage, the birth of their child, and the eventual divorce. He will always have her best interests at heart, no matter the status of their failed nuptials. He barely kept his anger in check. "No, Lucifer. What Chloe needs is justice."

"Don't you worry Daniel. Where he went, he will be getting his just deserts." A nasty smile appeared on Lucifer's face before he swiftly moved to exit the precinct, leaving Dan aghast.

He slammed the file on his desk, weight on his fists, head hung low. Taking barely a minute to breathe, Dan grabbed the file and walked toward the lab. He didn't bother knocking.

"Sorry Ella, the case is closed. You gotta cancel your processing."

"What? What about Chloe? What's gonna happen with Pierce? I mean, are we ever going to find out where these feathers came from? What about the - "

"I know, I know Ella, I'm upset too. But, " shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Ella's single eyebrow raised, "Can't we keep looking into it, you know, on the DL?"

Dan took a minute, eyes narrowed, hand at his chin. "I will not encourage nor discourage that idea, but -" Ella clapped her hands with glee, ignoring Dan's hand out in an attempt to quiet her excitement. "- don't tell Lucifer. He wants this over with, so keep it between us, yeah?"

"Got it, Detective," she saluted.

* * *

Upon his arrival to the penthouse fifteen floors above his famed nightclub, Lucifer quickly shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows, preparing to pour yet another whiskey. The doors outside were open, fresh air from the balcony beckoning. The descending sun turned LA's skyline into a silhouette backlit with a brilliant pink and orange glow. He headed outside, propping his elbows on the outer railing, city sounds fading below as the sun's rays dipped. A sad smile formed as he gazed lovingly at his creation, admiring it now as much as he did in the beginning.

Eons before, his father had said, "Let there be light!" and the loyal Samael delivered the morning star, proud of his accomplishment. Yahweh himself claimed Samael to be the brightest of angels, for who else could create the sun, the foundation of all life? But once humanity came along, he was cast aside. His father demanded his brothers and sisters love His experiments more than Him… but how could Samael? His bitterness grew, his father taking away the choice of who to love; it was too much to ask, as Samael loved deeply without inhibition. But here he was yet again, hundreds of thousands of years later, his pride coming before the fall from loving too much. Hadn't he learned?

The fire burning through his skin, was nothing compared to this absence, the vacuum slowly eviscerating any semblance of compassion remaining in him. Vivid memories came to the forefront of his mind, of the fiery tendrils licking every part of his body, screaming for it to end as he crash-landed into an unknown plane filled with flames and molten lava. Obsidian from the unfamiliar ground pierced his naked and raw flesh. Darkness crept into the fringes of his vision, his body's response to the pain and shock, but... _was that light_? Pinpricks flickered around his peripheries. With agony, he turned his head skyward toward the dark vortex of clouds, deadened eyes tracking his brothers and sisters who followed him into battle plummet down in spades, their landing no more graceful than his. How did he think that he could defeat his father's legions led by the archangel of protection, his brother, Michael?

His anamnesis was interrupted by a _ding_ and the sound of footsteps entering his penthouse. The heeled clicks on the floor slowed to a stop.

"You haven't been taking my calls."

He straightened, applying a false bravado before turning to look at the persistent woman standing in the middle of the room. "And _you_ , doctor, haven't been taking my hints."

Linda took the time to study him, ignoring the comments she had grown used to after years of therapy. Although his pressed suit and wry grin presented a confident man, his thousand-yard stare looked straight through her.

"I heard what happened."

Lucifer scoffed as he took a sip, "I'm not sure you heard the whole story."

"So tell me." She folded her hands in front of her, head tilted to the side.

"Why, so you can hear about how I've been shunned and vilified by the one person whose opinion matters most? More than my own father's?" he spat, turning away. "She got an eyeful of my true form and _ran_ , doctor."

"And how do you feel?"

"How do you think? It's not exactly the reaction I expect from women when I 'bare all'," he snorted into his drink.

"That's not an answer, Lucifer." Her voice didn't falter. "You're deflecting."

"What do you want me to say? I feel… anger? Shame?"

"Yes, Lucifer, that's _good_. Keep going."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you cannot move on unless you know what it is you're facing."

"I feel betrayed! Why do they turn from me when they see who I really am?"

"They?"

"Who else, doctor? My father, my brother… I thought Michael would stand with me against my father, but… I was wrong. The detective is just another name on the ever-growing list who turned the Devil away just because of who he is… who _I_ am." His voice broke.

She shifted her weight at her own memory of seeing his true face. It was truly terrifying. She didn't leave her townhouse for weeks, claiming a bad flu, avoiding loved ones, and calling out of work. Linda didn't blame Chloe for her reaction, but now she could see the flip side of the coin. Lucifer's pain was tangible, caused by a lifetime of punishment and neglect.

"You forget Lucifer, that Chloe is human. Her entire universe was completely upended in a few _seconds_. Her partner, the one she relied on for _everything_ , turned out to be the personification of evil she has only heard of in myths and legends. What do you think she is feeling, Lucifer? Does that sound like something you can bounce back from? It took me two weeks to come around to the idea. With Chloe, it's only been a few days. Be patient. Give her space."

Linda could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind. Lucifer was silent, his head down and mussed hair falling into his face, escaping the gel so meticulously applied. Eventually, he spoke so quietly Linda could barely hear him, Lucifer's eyes staring into his glass, "Can you talk to her, Linda?"

"Lucifer, I -"

"You're the only human who knows, who has seen my true face."

She studied him for a moment and looked down, a slight frown on her face as she stared blankly at the floor. _Lucifer's therapist or Chloe's friend? Does it have to be one or the other?_ Glancing up, she watched Lucifer gaze into his empty glass, sighing inwardly.

"Okay," she said. "I will."

* * *

Chloe didn't know what to do with herself. For the first time in years, she found herself sitting at home on a workday. She sat on her couch, swirling a glass of wine unconsciously, staring blankly at the Hallmark movie playing in the background. Orange light drifted through the windows from the setting sun, casting a glow on the living room floor. The lack of sleep from constant nightmares was finally catching up to her, slowly enticing her into a fitful rest. Her eyes began to droop… the empty white loft of her nightmares slowly materializing in front of her… Thankfully, the doorbell intervened before _it_ could make an appearance.

Placing her glass on the coffee table, she headed to the door, peering through the peephole nervously. _Surely Lucifer wouldn't…_ She sighed in relief. Linda was welcome. She needed a friend right now, therapist or no. Chloe hastened to unlock the newly installed combination of deadbolts and chainlinks on her door that may _possibly_ be a fire hazard in the state of California.

"Linda," she breathed in relief. Chloe enveloped her in a hug, her grief palpable. She ushered her friend through the door to find a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you. How are you doing?"

"Not, um… not great." Chloe stammered briefly looking down before bravely making eye contact with her confidant across the countertop. "It's uh, a lot to take in. You know, Pierce being the Sinnerman, running his scheme behind all our backs."

"Uh huh," Linda responded. Her heart jumped in anticipation as she reached across the table to lightly touch Chloe's hand. She has kept this secret for two whole years, prepared to take Lucifer's identity to the grave. And yet, her selfish side couldn't help but celebrate that she finally has someone with whom she could share this weight. "Chloe… I know."

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed, spurring Linda to elaborate. "I know about Lucifer."

"What, that he did it?" Chloe bluffed.

"No, I know who he is… who he _really_ is."

Chloe pulled her hand out from under Linda's touch as if burned, breathing becoming shallow. "Are you… _like him?_ "

"No, no, I'm human, just like you. He showed me his face about two years ago."

Chloe's eyes widened, her irregular breathing developing into a pattern Linda thought may turn into a panic attack. She anticipated denial, depression, or grief from Chloe, but not anger.

"You _knew_ ," Chloe hissed, eyes boring into Linda's, the pure fury triggering the first glimmer of tears. Linda leaned back as Chloe jabbed her finger toward her. "Why didn't you tell me? I let him into my home; I let my daughter develop a relationship with him; I let him into my life, and I let him into my h -"

She couldn't finish the sentence, her throat stuck as her brain caught up with her. "Wait… he _showed_ you? By choice?"

"Yes. I was under the same impression as you, that he was explaining his life in metaphors, but… one day I told him it needed to stop. I couldn't help him if he kept dissociating himself from his problems with this fictional life he created, only… it _wasn't_ fictional." She spoke with a subdued tone, eyes unfocused. "His eyes were… terrifying. I know I saw the wounds on his face but I couldn't process any of it. I completely shut down and refused to see him for two weeks."

"But... you do now. Don't you feel scared? Or unsafe?"

"Actually, on the contrary. I've never felt safer. I have the Devil on my side, after all. If I ever had any inkling that he was a risk to you or your family, I would've raised hell." She couldn't hold back the wry smile and giggle as she realized what she said. "Please excuse the pun."

"What made you want to start seeing him again? I mean, what do you get from all this? Did you come to an agreement?" Chloe shot at her, glaring. " _Did you make a deal with him?"_ she whispered intensely, leaning closer to Linda.

Linda tried to hide her laugh at the question, seeing Chloe's crossed arms and narrowed eyes. "I realized that he is like you and me, just on a larger scale. He was a part of a big family, made some wrong choices, and literally invented teenage rebellion and daddy issues. Lucifer has poor emotional intelligence because he never felt true unconditional love from… well, anyone. After an eternity without guidance from his father, how do you think he'd act? He's never known anything different. He was taught to hate himself by millennia of being blamed for humanity's poor choices, the irony being that Lucifer was the one who fought for us to even have choices at all." She paused to collect her thoughts. "Chloe, what I gained from my relationship with him was perspective, the most interesting patient in the universe, and most importantly, I gained some of my closest friends, him being one of them."

Chloe opened her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound came out. She put her hands to her temples and repeatedly shook her head. "Why didn't he choose to be honest with me? He knew I've never believed him, and he could've easily proven it." Her eyes shut, tears beginning to fall. "Didn't he trust me?"

"Chloe…" Linda reached out and took her hands in hers, encouraging her friend to open her eyes. "How would you have reacted? You have always been one for facts, and what is written about him doesn't reflect who he is. Think about it. Think about the Lucifer you know. Of course he's arrogant, immature, and strangely magnetic, because why wouldn't the Devil be? But he's also thoughtful, kind, and unfailingly truthful. He has never lied to you, and puts you first more than you could ever know."

"What makes you think he's never lied to me? He's literally called _the prince of lies,_ " she said, her bitterness pushing through her grief.

"He's never hidden who he was to you. It was you who chose not to believe him."

"Linda, how could I? I thought he was just some nutcase who _legitimately_ thought he was the Devil!"

"But he never lied."

Their entire partnership, and questionably budding relationship, flashed through her mind like an end-of-life movie montage. Did he ever give her a reason not to trust his words? The immediate answer was no. Although he never assisted with mundane tasks such as paperwork, she could _always_ trust him to have her back when it mattered most.

"I think that's the hardest part about this, Linda. History is telling me one thing, but my own eyes were telling me another." Chloe walked around the bar separating the foyer from the kitchen, hooking her arm through her friend's. "Come with me."

Minutes later, Linda was standing in a room she might see in the home of a religious zealot, stacks of old books and papers covering the floors and surfaces, demonic images, and biblical passages interspersed on the walls between photos Chloe took herself. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the photo in the center, a handsome snapshot of Lucifer looking toward a ripped edge on the left, smiling. Underneath, she could see the scrawl, "Samael, archangel of light and music".

The evidence of Chloe's fervor lay before Linda. She never realized the depth of Chloe's anxiety, her fear written between the lines of her notes, and piling on the heaps of books. She took in the once immaculate room, not only covered with Chloe's research, but with clothes, dishes, and clutter. This wasn't the room of a well-adjusted person. Her eyes finally landed on the person herself, whose appearance reflected the condition of her room. Her dirty blonde hair hung limply down her back, the pallor of her skin emphasizing the puffy discolored bags under her eyes. Linda laid her hand on Chloe's forearm. "Chloe, I think you've done enough."

"Have I, though?" her attention split between Linda and her murder board.

"Yes. Look at how much you've learned." Linda gestured around the room. "What you need to do now is process. This is a lot to take in, it can't be done in a day."

Chloe exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Yeah… yeah you're right."

"This is what you're going to do for the rest of your time off from work: Today, you are going to take this down, file it if you need to, get your bedroom together, and shower."

Chloe nodded. Structure is what she needed, the therapist being more than willing to provide. She listened as Linda continued to speak.

"Tomorrow you will pick up Trixie, and you will take time for the two of you for the rest of your leave. Take her to the beach, out for ice cream, or stay in and cook together and watch a few movies. Bring _normalcy_ back into your life. Take care of yourself."

She nodded in response. She has been the one giving orders for the last however many years of her life, and now in her crisis, she was finally allowed to have others take the reins. Her breath shuddered in and out, looking Linda in the eye. "I will."

"Good. And remember, you can always talk to me. My door is open to you. And God knows I could use someone to talk to as well," she chuckled quietly. Linda squeezed her arm in support before leaving Chloe to her own devices, and to the daunting tasks before her.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning sunlight filtered through Chloe's blinds into the spotless room, the only mess being Chloe herself wrapped in her bedsheets. She glared at the alarm and slammed her hand on the snooze button. "Ungh..." she moaned, hiding her face in the crux of her elbow to block out the sun. It was too cheery for her first day back at work. Everyone everywhere in the precinct will be perpetually looking at her with pity or disdain, there was no doubting it. Or talking behind her back, despite all the efforts she knew Dan and Ella put into quieting the rumors. She had no choice but to obsessively plan her escape routes within the precinct, and that's not even considering the worst possible outcome of the day. _What if Lucifer showed up?_ She forced her heart out of her throat and scrambled out of bed.

The sting of the cold shower purged the infectious thoughts from her mind. Stepping out, she could hear her daughter rummaging around downstairs for breakfast. She hoped Trixie didn't find Maze's sugary cereal, the only remaining evidence of the demon’s existence as her roommate. Last year, Maze's presence in her life was God sent. The woman was exasperating, but she made an incredible friend to her and Trixie, expending considerable effort into making them happy despite the wildly off-base results. _Where could she have gone?_

Finishing her business ensemble with a french braid and light makeup, she walked downstairs to greet her daughter. To Chloe's dismay, Trixie sat at the breakfast bar heartily consuming the remains of Maze's cookie cereal. "Good morning, monkey," Chloe kissed the top of Trixie’s head and pointed to her cereal bowl. "Once that's gone, we won’t be buying anymore. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Mommy, this is how I get my energy for the day. I mean, You have your coffee. How do you expect me to get through 3rd grade?” Trixie didn’t have to say ‘duh’ for Chloe to hear it.

“You have enough energy. Now go brush your teeth. _Thoroughly_ , young lady.”

Trixie’s eye roll could rival her mother’s. She stomped toward the bathroom, leaving her empty bowl for Chloe to place in the dishwasher. Chloe rested her clammy palms on the edge of the counter and exhaling through pursed lips, unable to calm the nervous energy as her mind circled the events of the upcoming day.

Time went by too fast. With a groan, she stepped out of her car and into the precinct. As expected, few people greeted her. She headed to her desk, her butt barely in place before something knocked her sideways.

“Chloe! How are you?” Ella pulled back breathlessly from the hug, eyes widening and jaw dropping in horror, “Wait, don’t answer that, that was a dumb question. Of course, you’re not alright, your fiance was murdered.”

“Thanks for summing that up.” Chloe couldn't hold back a smile at Ella's faux pas. “I'm fine, it's really good to see you. How’s it been here?”

“Oh you know, same shit different day. Our new Lieutenant is a hardass, but she kinda has to be. Where’s Lucifer? Is he coming in today?”

Her heart stopped in response to the sudden constricting pressure unrelated to Ella's bear hugs. “Oh, um... I haven’t spoken to him.” She turned to start her computer, attempting to avoid the conversation. A lost cause with Ella.

Ella’s eyes furrowed. “But you guys are so close.”

“Yeah,” her pitch raised. “It was just... a lot to process.”

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I’m sure things will be back to normal in no time.”

“I hope so. Anything good come up while I was gone?”

“Actually,” Ella lowered her voice and pulled up a chair from the next desk over. “Lieutenant Brown closed Pierce’s case, but... Dan and I are looking into it under the radar to see if we can get some intel on his circle of weirdos.”

“Wait... she closed Pierce’s case? I didn’t even give a statement.”

“Lucifer took care of it.”

Chloe wasn’t sure if she should be thankful or not. On the one hand, she didn’t have to go through that day again and attempt to come up with a cover for his... _devilishness_. But what did Lucifer say?

“I have to ask though, do you know where the feathers came from?”

“Feathers?” Images of the loft floated in front of her vision again. She was so focused on Lucifer’s face as he stood over Pierce’s body that she didn’t even pay attention to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, there were tons of them all over the floor. Completely covered in blood.”

She paused. The feathers weren’t in the loft when they entered. “What did they look like?”

“White, and _huge_ \- “

“That’s what she said!” Rodriguez declared proudly with coffee in hand as he walked by, catching the last bit of their conversation.

“Ugh,” Ella rolled her eyes. “Beat cops are such tools.”

Chloe laughed for the first time in ages; the familiar comfort work provided her was returning little by little.

Ella looked around for eavesdroppers before continuing.“But for real, I’m telling you, feathers this size shouldn’t exist. The blood wasn’t human or animal.”

This time, Chloe tried to imagine the scene willingly. The white loft, gunsmoke, and the _pop pop pop_ interrupting her phone call with Dan. How did she get to the roof anyway? The sudden force of a sledgehammer hitting her vest from the bullet induced her blackout. Machine guns unloading came to her, the lights from the loft around them completely shadowed by _something. What was it?_

“I’m sorry Ella, I can’t remember. It’s all so... fuzzy.”

Before Ella could respond, the Lieutenant stuck her head out from behind the glass and beckoned for Chloe to come into the office.

“Well, looks like I’m needed. Let me know what you find out.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ella gave her yet another hug before disappearing behind the blinds of the lab.

With trepidation, Chloe made her way to meet the new boss and was standing before her desk sooner than she would have liked. She looked around the office her ex-fiance took up residence in for the past year. He first asked her to dinner when she was standing in this very spot. She couldn’t cry. Not now.

“You must be Detective Chloe Decker,” Lieutenant Brown's tone lacked disgust or pity when she addressed her, a refreshing break for Chloe.

“Yes Lieutenant, that’s me.”

“Please, sit,” she gestured toward the chair in front of her desk, where Chloe had sat to plan her wedding not one month before. She felt the attention of the rest of the precinct through the glass as she sat.

“I understand you’ve been through a traumatic experience, not only witnessing a murder but losing a romantic partner. I'm sorry for your loss.” It was the first time anyone expressed sympathy to Chloe, but before she could express her appreciation, the lieutenant continued. “In instances such as these, the person involved must undergo a psych evaluation to establish readiness to return to the field. Now, your partner, Lucifer Morningstar, is already seeing a professional, but I’d like for you to set an appointment by the end of the week. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Yes ma’am,” she thought of Linda. “I’ve been seeing someone on and off, but I can make it a regular thing.”

“Fantastic, email me the name and credentials by the end of the day.” She gave Chloe a warm smile peering over her glasses. “Now, we will be placing you on desk duty for the foreseeable future until we can get clearance from your psychologist.”

Chloe nodded, expecting no less.

Lieutenant Brown quickly changed the subject. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that we have closed Pierce’s case, understanding that your partner, Lucifer, acted in self-defense. The LAPD organized crime unit will continue the investigation of Pierce’s crime syndicate under his title, the Sinnerman. There will be no further expectations from you at this time. Do you have any questions for me before returning to work?”

“No, Lieutenant.” She was familiar with desk duty following the Palmetto case and witnessing the shooting of Malcolm, her ex-colleague who eventually was revealed to be a dirty cop. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re very welcome. Please know that you can always come to me. Your hard work here is appreciated.”

Lately, she had been considered the department pariah, exposing Malcolm after seemingly crying wolf for years, her divorce from Dan and his demotion following the Palmetto case, and lastly, the death of the last Lieutenant and revealing of his crime ring. She was the person to get involved with if you wanted your career to tank. Never has she been told that her contribution was _appreciated_. She shook the Lieutenant’s hand, admiration for this woman ballooning in her chest. Chloe returned to her desk feeling lighter.

The day wore on without anything of significance occurring, as it typically would with the absence of Lucifer. Chloe stretched in her chair, yawning, preparing to get herself another coffee. Before she could get the chance, their front desk coordinator appeared in front of her.

“Detective Decker, there’s someone here wanting to see you.” Teresa was unable to hide the smile on her face. Chloe frowned. Visitors weren’t unheard of when working a case, but due to desk duty, she didn’t have a case.

Teresa looked about to explode, “You didn’t tell us Lucifer had a twin!”

Chloe’s contented brain screeched to a halt, eyes wide. “I didn’t know he had one.”

“He’s a spitting image. Although this guy needs to take a leaf out of Lucifer’s book in the style department, if you know what I mean.”

“Right, yeah…” If this was actually a brother, he must be an angel, which didn’t sound terrible. _They’re the good guys, right?_

Less than a minute later, Chloe could see Teresa weaving through the desks, a man with dark hair directly behind her. She almost choked when his features were close enough to discern. Teresa wasn’t kidding, he was a spitting image of his brother, except this man paid much less attention to his appearance. Curly hair was let loose, free of the gel typically atop Lucifer’s head. Where Lucifer had a 5 o’clock shadow, this man proudly sported a full beard. She shifted her eyes downward to examine his clothes. The ‘Los Angeles Angels’ baseball shirt was faded, matching the worn sandals barely peeking out from beneath the ill-fitted jeans dragging on the floor. If he wasn’t so clean, Chloe could’ve easily assumed the man was homeless. Dan’s jaw dropped across the room.

The 'other' Lucifer maintained eye contact with the Detective for an uncomfortable amount of time after Teresa left. She shifted her weight under his gaze.

“Hello, Chloe Decker.” His eyes were warm, startlingly similar to Lucifer's. She could imagine a small smile gracing his face behind his beard. “I am Michael.”

The punch to her gut in response to the news wasn’t a surprise.

“As in… _the_ Michael? The archangel?”

“Yes, you are correct.”

He stood there awkwardly, unknowing of the social niceties that Lucifer exploited on a daily basis. His shoulders sat impossibly straight, arms hung limply at his side, his familiar brown eyes barely blinking.

She cleared her throat, “Please, sit down.”

Michael didn’t hesitate before sitting at her side. “Please forgive me,” he said earnestly. “It has been millennia since I have been in my human form. My father’s creation has changed very much.”

“I can imagine.” Chloe cackled at herself internally. _That was an absolute lie_. She could barely imagine this was real, and it was happening right in front of her. “So what can I do for you?”

“I am looking for my brother.

 _Oh_. “Which one?” she asked, dreading the response.

“The conspirator once known as Samael.”

Boy, was she glad she did her homework. This man would have been laughed out of the precinct before her revelation ten days ago. She had to unstick her throat before responding, a strange sound emerging she disguised as a cough. “I actually don’t know where he is.”

“But you know him.”

“I do.”

“He revealed himself to you.”

“Uh - he did, but…” _Why did she feel the need to defend him?_ “I don’t think he meant to.”

“It’s difficult to interpret my brother’s intentions.”

She guffawed loudly. “I’ve never heard a more accurate statement. Why do you need to speak to him?”

“Several reasons: he abdicated his throne -"

"What do you mean? He's... a king?"

"Yes. Of the least desired kingdom. Nothing to boast about."

"So, you want him to go back to..." She couldn't convince herself to say the word.

"Not necessarily. He killed a human -”

“But… he’s the Devil, hasn’t he killed lots of people?”

“My brother? No, it's against our laws. He’s killed many of us, but not humans.”

“And you have as well.” It slipped out before she could think about it. He seemed kind and devoted to his cause, but this air he put on was almost as deceitful as Lucifer’s facade.

“God’s will must be done.”

“And killing your own kind was God’s will?”

“They stopped being a servant of God when they rebelled. I did what I must.” There was no change in his demeanor when he talked of the war, as if the slaughter of his brothers and sisters meant nothing to him. The dichotomy between Michael's apathy and Lucifer’s intense emotions was astounding.

Chloe cleared her throat, “I wish I could help.” _Did she, though?_

Michael bowed his head in response. “Thank you, Chloe Decker. I look forward to meeting you again in Heaven.”

She had to repress a shiver following that pronouncement. He stood and turned toward the stairs, not looking back. Chloe eyed him wearily as if he would turn around and smite her for not providing him answers. Her eyes lost focus as her thoughts took her, _although…_ Her attention immediately zeroed in on the large image sprawled across the back of Michael’s baseball shirt.

_Wings._

She could feel her blood pressure rise as she connected the dots, clambering toward the lab to find her friend. Ella didn’t hear her entrance, too busy singing off-key to ‘She Talks to Angels’, the irony not lost on Chloe.

“Ella!” she waved.

The scientist pulled her headphones off, not even remotely embarrassed that someone saw her dancing. _How freeing ignorance of the divine must be._

“Can you get those feathers from the evidence room? Pierce’s case is closed to me.”

“Sure, no problem,” she carefully placed the slide under the microscope back in its case. “Good timing too, I wanted to check out that freaky blood one more time before it goes into cold storage.”

Chloe only had to wait a few minutes before Ella returned with a transparent evidence bag. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it as she reached for the gloves Ella handed to her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ella asked, as transfixed as she was.

“Yeah…”

“Just wait until we get it out of the bag.”

Ella carefully pulled out the bloodied and damaged feather by the calamus that was once fixed into the skin to place it on the disinfected table. Chloe gulped, taking in the sheer size and wonder of the feather. It had to be longer than her arm. Bits of blinding white peeked through pools of crusted blood giving her only a shadow of an idea at the brilliance it once held. Even bloodstained, the plumage evoked the driving need to simply be in its presence to feel whole. She reached forward and picked it up to examine closely, turning it over in her hands.

Chloe had seen feathers like this before, years ago. She had barely known Lucifer at the time, his involvement as a civilian consultant for the LAPD only just at its onset. It was an illegal auction of religious relics. She could recall the shape of those wings by heart; the wonderment she felt when she first laid eyes on them carved into her memory, just as those same feelings were now, to a smaller degree.

Her heart skipped. _This is real_. There was one element she often set aside as she completed her research: Lucifer was once an _angel_ , loved by God, and revered by all on earth.

She carefully put the feather back into the bag so as to avoid disturbing the vanes any further. “Thanks, Ella,” she said gratefully. As she headed back to her desk, she ruminated on what the presence of the mangled feathers at the crime scene indicated. _Lucifer was hurt, but how?_

The chair squeaked as Chloe sat and spun toward her computer. Again, she found herself unable to concentrate, tightly closing her eyes to force the memories to come forward. What happened when she blacked out? The sounds of the machine guns echoed through her head just as they did that day, the conversion from the light into the shadows overwhelmed her as the rain of bullets wore on. But there was another deafening sound. Pain so exquisite reverberated in the screams, pounding in her eardrums from directly behind her, the feeling of arms around her chest pulling tighter in tandem with the cries. Her eyes slowly opened with the realization of what occurred without a doubt.

 _He used a piece of himself to protect me_.

The gravity of the situation grew as she objectively analyzed Lucifer as a being. His last name, ‘Morningstar’, the name of his nightclub, ‘Lux’, all were derivatives of his subconscious desire to maintain a grip of his expired divinity. And yet, he sacrificed his only reminder of a past life, to protect her.

For the second time that day, her hands shook and her breaths rattled. Chloe looked up to the ceiling as if in prayer to inhibit the tears threatening to course down her cheeks. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, trembling thumb hovering over the home button. She bit her lip. _What was she doing?!_

_“Chart House at 7 pm - don’t be late.”_

She counted her breathing to the phrase Ella taught her at her bust of a bachelorette party: 'breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit'. It never failed to bring a smile to her face. She could only hope it still worked.

Her phone buzzed. Chloe didn’t have to look to know who it was. Trying to ignore the burning phone through her pocket, she headed to Dan to arrange for Trixie this evening. He was analyzing a crisp new file, frown marring his usually good-natured countenance. Chloe furrowed her brows, eyeing the folder. “What’s up?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, laying the file flat and sighing. “This one is… this one’s really fucked up, Chlo. But, you shouldn't worry about it.”

She pushed away her irritation at what her ex-husband thought she ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ do, the constant belittling directions affirming Chloe’s choice to separate. “Right, well I need you to take Trixie tonight. Can you pick her up from my mom’s?”

“Depends on how long this crime scene takes,” he rubbed his eyes. “But most likely, yes.”

“Great, thanks Dan,” she smiled, “and let me know how that crime scene is.”

“Will do,” he turned back, hand on his temple staring down at the papers.

Chloe quickly made her way back to her desk, packing up reports and booking paperwork, itching to check her phone. Soon enough, she found herself sitting in her car, quickly shooting off a text to her mother before opening the ‘unread’ notification.

 _“I will be there, come hell or high water_.”

The purple Devil emoticon, Lucifer’s favorite signature, was staring right through her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading. Your comments get me through the week!
> 
> This chapter is where the warnings kick in - there will be graphic violence, death, and some brief sexual content. If that's not your jam, turn back now!
> 
> And now for Chapter 4... :)

_You were clueless to my presence as I walked in, peeping through your window with your treasured binoculars. Scrawny muscles barely covered your young bones, the protrusions sticking through your shirt, pants off, hands pumping where I expected them to be, you creep. I pulled the hammer back, the click finally pulling your attention away from the neighbor's bedroom. Seeing your mouth open in fear was dizzying. You didn't scream, but I didn’t need words for you to know what to do. Oh that quiet sobbing, that whimpering was sublime as you sank into the mattress. This was it. I gasped when the kickback of the bullet came through my silencer, the goosebumps emerging on my skin, the pressure building between my legs as your lifeless body jolted back against the bed._

_Ah, life and death, how quick the transition._

_I breathed in the sudden silence for as long as I could, but there was work to do still. You needed to be adjusted into the appropriate position; after all, the detective must know where you are going and why. I panted as I moved you, but not from the exertion, no. Now, the final touch to my masterpiece. I moaned as your flesh gave way to my knife, carving out your sins and hellish desires, sending you down, down into the abyss. There, where the creator sends destitutes, vagabonds, and sinners, it is not painless._

* * *

"What is it your nasty little heart desires?”

The man couldn't answer; he was drowning in a mouth full of Lucifer, head held down by the Devil himself. The vibrations of his moan cascaded through Lucifer's body as he pushed deeper into a crescendo, building, and building -

Lucifer yanked the man's head away by the hair, hardly fazed at his near eruption into the man's tonsils. "Strip."

The man didn't need to be told twice. His wedding ring glinted as he ripped his shirt from his body, scrambling out his trousers. Lucifer looked him up and down, eyeing him like a prized animal, stopping at his cock. It was so stiff he could hang his Gucci on it. "I believe I asked you a question." He stalked closer to his prey, alluring eyes pulling him into his web. "What is it you want from me?"

He dissolved quickly under the Devil's bewitching gaze. "I want to get fucked like a dog."

"A little bitch, are you?" Lucifer stuck his fingers in the man's mouth until he gagged and moaned.

Before Lucifer could find more of his outlets to explore, his mobile buzzed. "But first, no distractions," he reached for his pocket. "You are center stage." He glanced at the screen, fully prepared to shut it off, and yet… seeing her name was a douse of cold water.

“On second thought, I’ll have to take a raincheck.”

The man groaned, dropping to his knees again to pull Lucifer back into his mouth. His tongue was particularly skillful for a straight married man, the distraction almost enough to pull Lucifer away from the detective. But -

“Oh, overzealous, are we? Another time, Sparky.”

“What? Why?” He looked up in confusion.

“Work, I do apologize. Until next time?” The man swatted Lucifer's offered hand aside and snatched his clothes from the floor before shuffling toward the elevator, cheeks red. This text had better be worth it, Lucifer was never one to ignore others’ desires. Especially one involving a hard fuck.

The Detective was requesting his presence at the very location he had once failed to keep their… _was it a date?_ At the time, she had saved Lux from a new building owner, claiming it a historic piece of architecture and rendering it unable to be torn down. It was the first favor anyone had done for him without expecting something in return. With one impromptu shot of whiskey, Lucifer threw his suit jacket over his shoulder and followed the path of his departed guest.

After nearly causing several car accidents and being on the receiving end of multiple middle fingers, Lucifer barely parked within the lines of the office building before rushing inside past the indignant receptionist. Unfortunately for Linda, the red and blinking ‘in-session’ light outside her door did not deter him one bit. The poor client on the sofa nearly dropped the tissues in her hand, recoiling at the sound of the door hitting the wall.

“Out,” Lucifer pointed.

“Lucifer, this is not your scheduled time,” Linda said from her chair across the room, appalled.

“It’s not about _having_ time, it’s about _making_ time! Carpe diem, doctor!” He ushered her flabbergasted patient toward the door, slipping a hundred dollar bill into her hand. “Here lovely, go buy yourself something nice. Linda will make it up to you.”

His therapist raised her eyebrows at him before standing up to address the woman, “I sincerely apologize, he’s neurotic and prone to fits of hysteria. I would be happy to add additional time next week.”

The woman became mute, alternating attention between the two and nodding in agreement. “Fantastic, _thank you_ ,” Lucifer responded, shutting the door in her face and turning to Linda. “Now, where were we?”

“We were exploring the extent of your narcissism.” Her voice was as deadpan as her expression.

“ _S_ _cintillating_.”

Lucifer sat in the center of the couch, taking his time adjusting his suit jacket and crossing his legs.

“Why are you here, Lucifer?”

“Well doctor, it’s a perfect opportunity for you to help me with my problem,” Lucifer said, folding his hands over the edge of his knee with a grin on his face.

She moved toward her own chair across from him. “And what problem is that?”

“The detective texted me.” The curved edges of Lucifer's lips were slipping despite his best efforts. “She wants to meet tonight.”

“This is _good_ , Lucifer.”

“Too good, in fact… did you _hypnotize_ her?”

“No, no, I didn’t. I helped her understand her feelings.”

“And they are?”

“What’s keeping you from finding out for yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t know doctor,” the volume of his voice raised a notch. “Maybe it’s because she’s dogmatic and intolerant.”

“And you might lose her.”

This time, Lucifer didn’t hide his lustreless expression from his therapist. “Yes,” his voice was without the fanfare it typically carried.

The silence in the room did not allow for Lucifer to avoid his thoughts, leaving him a marionette to his own mind and allowing Chloe to puppeteer. _What would become of him when she decided to spurn him?_

“She’s still here,” Linda’s voice pierced through his thoughts.

“She shouldn’t be here, I’m the literal essence of evil. _I’m the Devil._ ”

“Is that who you are, or who your father decided to make you?”

Lucifer’s mouth opened with a retort waiting on his lips, but the only sound that came out was a small attempt at phonation. He let out his breath.

Linda took advantage of Lucifer’s unusual quiet. “Look within yourself, Lucifer. What brings you joy? Or sadness? What do _you_ desire? You are a multi-faceted person, not only defined by a job forced upon you. This may be what Chloe sees. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I am not a person, how _dare_ you.”

“I believe you have more in common with humanity than you think. You were once God’s favorite son; who do you think He used as a foundation for His creation? There was something about you that your father loved, Lucifer, when you were a part of the heavenly host. What makes you think Chloe won’t see that too?”

“My father turned me away, what makes you think that Chloe won’t do the same?”

“If you make that decision for her, Lucifer, you’re not allowing her freedom of choice. Isn’t that what you fought for?”

“So what you're saying, is that I need to force her to make a choice,” his eyes brightened in realization, a grin returning to his face.

“No, I absolutely did not say that.”

“You’re brilliant, doctor. This is why I pay you the big bucks.” He got up quickly to open the door. “And they say that money doesn’t solve problems.”

The door quickly shut behind him, leaving Linda dazed in her chair.

* * *

After coming home from a long day sitting and staring at a computer screen, Chloe finally felt truly awake staring into her closet, overwhelmed with too many options and yet not enough. _What do I wear to meet the Devil?_

She breezed through her choices, eyes grabbing onto the darker colors in her closet. A burgundy turtleneck, emerald blouse, and flowy pink patterned tunic stood out to her, but none of them fit the tone of tonight. The only thing she knew for sure is that she wanted to keep some distance between them. For now. _Work clothes it is_. She pulled a ribbed beige v-neck from the business section of her closet, not before eyeing her black leather moto jacket hanging in the corner. She grabbed it too, needing to feel like a bit of a badass sitting in front of the Devil tonight.

Chloe took in her reflection after donning her clothes, wavy golden hair hung loose, framing the empty space where the chained bullet once hung. Her hand automatically moved toward her chest to grasp the empty air, fist closed tight pressing into her sternum. She swallowed. It was the best gift she had ever received, now tainted by visions of burning eyes and singed skin. Her own red-rimmed eyes looked back at her in the mirror, chin trembling. _I can do this_.

Forty-five minutes later, Chloe found herself secluded in the back of the restaurant on her second glass of merlot, not quite quenching her need for liquid courage. She glanced at her watch for what must have been the fiftieth time, each second dragging. _One minute_. Her heart was in her throat.

Soon enough, the giggle of the hostess and the telltale British baritone came floating in from the other room, making Chloe’s heart skip. She gulped down the rest of her wine frantically. Finally, the man himself came into view, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he spoke to the young woman. He didn’t look her way as they got closer to the table.

She stood abruptly as they approached, making the table wobble with a loud ‘bang’, getting Lucifer’s attention in the most embarrassing way possible. Her eyes glued themselves to the floor.

“Thank you,” Lucifer dismissed the equally confused hostess, eyeing Chloe’s stiff form from head to foot. “What are you doing, Detective?”

“Well…” she started high-pitched and cleared her throat. “Aren’t you… uh, aren’t you a king?”

Chloe slowly drew her eyes upward, taking in the familiar designer suit, and landing on the expression of disbelief on his face. A partial smile started to form.

“Of sorts... Please, do go on,” he gestured.

She bit her lip and paused, recognizing the cocky and expectant look on his face. Not wanting to inflate his ego any further, and uncomfortable with the idea of telling the Devil himself to shut up, she invited him to sit.

Neither spoke. Chloe eyed Lucifer’s relaxed posture, fingers running along the rim of his ring, watching her. She couldn’t feel the back of her chair, shifting under his gaze. To keep her hands busy, Chloe poured herself more wine, making eye contact with her silent partner. She stared, the restaurant falling away to give way to the bright lights of Lux, seeing the confetti fall from the ceiling, cheesy 80’s music playing in the background. Her hands were empty, but they shouldn’t be. She should be slow dancing at their solitary prom, head on his shoulder, soaking up the heat of their bodies so close. But she wasn’t. He sat too far away, eyes distant and calculating. Where was her partner? The one who stole Dan’s pudding just because he could, loved Trixie despite claiming the opposite, and showered her with comments as frustratingly witty as they were endearing? An empty shell sat before her.

“Hi.”

“Detective.”

Her heart was racing, exacerbated by his heavy scrutiny. He sat stone still across the table with an unreadable expression on his face, waiting for her to talk. After all, he had all the time in the world. Literally.

“Um…” she looked down at her jittery fingers. “Ella found your feathers. Are you… okay?”

“Of course, detective, why wouldn’t I be?”

“They were bloody.”

He stopped fiddling with his ring. “I was shot.”

“How many times?”

He cocked his head at her, narrowing his eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me for not counting, I was indisposed.” His fingers returned to the obsidian adorning his hand.

“You… you did it to save me?”

Lucifer didn’t respond right away. Though his gaze was directed right at her, eyes unfocused. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Chloe took a shaky breath in, the tears forming reflecting the candlelight. She could still hear his screams in her ear as he pulled tight against her, sheltering her from the rain of bullets. Thanks to the Devil, Chloe lived. Trixie still had a mother. She swallowed, forcing her trembling voice to move past the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Lucifer completely stopped tracing his ring at the pronouncement, snapping to attention. _This is not how people react to the Devil_. His victims found themselves rocking back and forth in a straight jacket after a crazed attempt to slam their heads repeatedly into a wall. He expected fear, possibly the soiling of pants, but not cautious reverence. And certainly not gratitude. He furrowed his eyebrows and responded quietly, “Always, detective. I would do it again. And again.”

The tears fell freely this time, the anger and fear swept away by the ocean of tears, wave after wave rolling through her. No matter what she did, they kept coming, and eventually, she hoped, the tides of pain would stop. But as for now, she allowed the saltwater to push through her barriers, one swell at a time.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the napkin, shaky laughter bubbling up from her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I… I’m scared, Lucifer. I don’t know what to expect. And… I’m upset that you kept this secret from me -”

“I have been clear with you from the beginning.”

She blinked, nodding. “You’re right, you have. But you knew well enough I didn’t believe you. You could have shown me.”

“I _tried_ , detective. My Devil face didn’t come. It had only just returned the very day you saw it.”

“But… you have wings.”

He scoffed, “I couldn’t show you _those,_ last time they almost turned you into a bumbling ignoramus halfway to vegetable. And… they aren’t a reflection of who I am. That would be more of a lie than me simply speaking the truth, knowing you wouldn't believe me. You would have run.” He let out a short and humorless laugh, focusing intensely on Chloe. “Working with you, knowing you, was a bright spot in the unending darkness of my immortal life. Detective, I have been in survival mode for eons, unable to feel any real joy. For the first time since I was cast out, I experienced that with you. And the reality is, I was spinning the biggest web of lies in my entire existence, myself being the victim. I leave half of me behind when I’m with you. The Devil is who I am, and I don’t deserve happiness. I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

Chloe was aghast at how Lucifer tore himself apart, pretending the good in him didn’t exist. Is this what God inspired in His son? Self-hatred? Her inner mother came out, blood boiling at the utter failure of his father. “First of all, Lucifer, I didn’t run. I am sitting right here in front of you, am I not? Secondly, your wings are a reflection of who you are just as much as your face. The Devil is only half of who you are, and that wasn’t even your choice. I’ve seen _you_ , the real you, on a daily basis. You tell me time and time again that you don’t lie, so surely who you are with me is the truth.”

The muscles of Lucifer’s jaw clenched, eyes boring into her as she spoke. She wouldn’t be surprised if the red orbs of her nightmares showed themselves. Lucky for her, his eyes remained his familiar warm brown.

“And lastly,” she took a breath, “you are not the Devil. Not to me.”

Lucifer sat, stunned, letting out a burst of air in disbelief. His eyes became glassy as his brows furrowed, unable to believe that a woman such as her existed. A real miracle. He would tear her apart if he stayed. “As I said, Detective, I don’t deserve you.”

He stood and tossed bills onto the table avoiding Chloe’s gaze. He didn’t have to look at her to know her heart was breaking, tears spilling from her eyes as she realized what he was about to do. Slowly, he took his first painful step away from the table, and his chance at happiness. Before he could get far, her trembling words stopped him in his tracks.

“I have one question for you before you go.”

He turned. “Just one?”

“Why me?”

The day they met swam into his vision, her disregard for him intriguing, the need to discover her inner workings and his father’s manipulation overwhelming. Her lack of response to his ‘desire mojo’, as she liked to call it, allowed her to be in a position to know and accept him without influence. She was the sun he lost when tossed into hell like garbage, her bright rays piercing and lightening his heart on his darkest days. And, despite his flaws, she chose him again and again. Her selflessness and ability to love were endless. Chloe was ordinary, but extraordinary in so many facets, living her life not knowing how incredible she was.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Chloe.”

* * *

Michael stood on the balcony of the penthouse looking up at his Father’s creations in the night sky, formed by his fallen brother. No matter his opinion of Samael, his father chose the right angel to bring his designs into being, their magnificence stretching across galaxies to enrapture humanity below. He truly shined the brightest of all of them.

He analyzed the amber liquid he had helped himself to from Samael’s bar, holding it up to eye level and swirling it in circles. The stench wafted up to him as he brought it closer, jerking his head back and wrinkling his nose as he lightly sniffed it. Disgusting. Samael always had unique preferences. The hacking cough of his first sip disrupted his composure, Michael choking on the vile liquid. _This drink belongs in Hell_...

The opening of the elevator door interrupted any further musings. Samael entered the space with his jacket thrown over his shoulder, the muscles of his jaw clenching. Michael didn’t move to make his presence known, enraptured at the first sight of his pair since his rebellion. Samael poured himself a glass of the very same liquid that was still burning Michael’s throat before sitting down at the piano, staring at the keys as if they would provide him answers. He raised his hand to the keyboard to plunk out the first melody he could think of. _Heart and Soul_. The simple song echoed within the walls of the empty room before his fingers slipped away and dropped into his lap.

Michael waited, but Samael provided no more music.

Waiting for his brother to move from the piano was almost laborious. He could see his brother's blank stare blazing through the branding of his Bösendorfer, his eyes glazed over. _What could have affected him so?_ This is not the bright angel he once knew.

“Brother.” Michael stepped into the light inside.

Deep brown turned to red as Samael’s wide eyes rose to meet his, lip curling, the squeezing of his hand breaking the glass of his coveted drink. He stood from the piano bench.

“ _You.”_

Michael stopped far from Samael in the center of the room, apprehensive of his brother’s anger, despite knowing there’s nothing they could do to maim each other on this plane without their celestial weapons. “It’s been ages. I don’t think I’ve seen you since the Paleozoic era. Right after Eve, if I recall correctly.”

“I wonder why,” Lucifer’s eyes remained bright and focused on Michael.

“I’m not here to harm you.”

“Oh, well _bless_ you brother, I was worried.”

“I saw your detective today." Michael took a sip of the drink, feigning enjoyment from the heat moving down his esophagus as he watched Samael’s face contort even further.

“You will stay away from her.”

“Too late.” Michael smiled at the very human blood visibly pulsing in his brother’s neck.

“ _What did you do?_ ” he snarled.

“I simply introduced myself.”

“And that’s all you will be doing. I hope your stay on earth is as uncomfortably painful as it is short. And please, remember to smoke an exhaust pipe before you leave, I hear it’s quite the trip.”

The sound of Michael’s footsteps were muffled on the rug as he slowly walked toward Samael, stopping inches away, unblinking brown staring into the red of his fallen brother’s. “You best be careful addressing me, Samael.”

“You best call me by my true name, Mikey.”

The standoff was unending to the brothers, but before long, Michael stepped back to place his glass down. When he turned, apathy reflected back toward his once loved pair. He pulled at the fabric of his chest to adjust his t-shirt.

“I’ll make sure to give the detective your love. Until next time.” The stare of his brother bore a hole into the wings on his back as he exited the penthouse.

* * *

_How proud must you be of your sins? You didn't try to make this difficult, too wrapped up in each other to see me. "Late night at the office," I heard you say to your husband over the phone. It was sickening to watch you blatantly screaming your sins to the world as you walked back hand in hand to the tall building downtown._

_Taking out your lover out with a single gunshot to the head wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped, but your scream after his blood sprayed your inner thighs was mouthwatering. Especially when you pushed his dead weight away from between your legs. Oh, the terror! I moaned. You will never know true horror until I send you where you belong. I sent a bullet through your brain, leaving you in your office chair, skirt bunched up around your thighs. You made it easy. I didn't even need to adjust you. The knife slit smoothly through your heavily lotioned thighs, the message to the detective loud and clear._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> In this chapter we have some mentions of trauma and some more graphic violence just so you're aware.
> 
> Thank you for following my story! And now for Chapter 5... :)

“Good morning LAPD!”

The silent bullpen broke out into choruses of excited greetings at the presence of the famed consultant, even more so at the sight of coffee and donuts. Chloe heard rounds of “Lucifer’s back!” from her desk, not moving from her chair to greet the man herself. After all, he had left her high and dry the night before. _What is he doing here?_ She had finished her first cup of coffee by the time he made his way through the early morning crowd toward her, not accepting the cup he held out to her with an expectant smile. Ignoring him, she opened her desk drawer.

“Ah, yes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, hmm?”

She slammed her drawer shut, the echo extinguishing the morning chatter as heads turned toward the ‘Deckerstar’ reunion.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” she whispered harshly.

“Would you like that alphabetically?”

Chloe closed her eyes to collect herself, hands out to discourage Lucifer from inciting her even further. With an exasperated sigh, she opened her eyes to take in his still smiling face, completely unfazed by her reaction. It's as if their relationship hadn't changed, but... the image of his red eyes flashed before her. She stiffened as if the water she was wading in was now under her chin and still rising. _I can't do this._ Quickly snatching up files, she escaped, not bothering to look back in time to see his shoulders slump. She closed the door of the observation room, sighing.

It was cold and dark despite the lighting. Walls of cinderblock rose around her in the cramped space, the only window looking into the interrogation room, the lone ceiling lamp casting a spotlight on the memories of cases she and Lucifer had worked together. Chloe placed her hands on the window pane. What would she have seen if she watched Lucifer with her suspects? She leaned her forehead against the window, the cool glass a sweet relief against her pounding skull.

Her phone buzzed in her jacket. Groaning, she looked to see Dan’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey Chlo, we need you on this one.”

“What’ve you got?”

“Two victims, a woman in her 40’s and male in his 30’s, both with GSWs to the head execution-style.” He took a breath over the phone. “The killer carved bible verses into the woman’s thigh post-mortem. Exodus chapter 20 verse 14. ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’, according to the internet.”

“Three guesses as to why they were murdered…”

“I’m headed back to the station, Ella is still running fingerprints and DNA. We need to contact next of kin and speak to the woman’s husband.”

“Was the man married?”

“No evidence of a ring.”

The murmur of the crime scene came through the phone as Dan collected his thoughts. “We had a scene just like this the other day, Chlo. It was just a kid, a fifteen-year-old boy found dead in his bedroom, GSW to the forehead. Same MO, Exodus chapter 20 verse 17 on his stomach. ‘Thou shalt not covet your neighbor’s house or your neighbor’s wife.’ He staged the body.”

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows gazing blankly into the interrogation room. “The killer… what’s his game?”

“I dunno, but this just became serial. We need you and Lucifer on this.”

“I can’t Dan, I’m on desk duty. And Lucifer shouldn’t even be here.”

“You need to get clearance. Who’s your therapist? Linda?” He didn’t even wait for an answer before continuing, “I’ll give her a call, see if we can get this sped up.”

“No Dan, I’ll talk to her. Just treat it like a normal case for now.”

Turning away from the window, she hung up her phone, exhaling through pursed lips. She looked around the room, belatedly realizing there was no workspace. Nothing could get done in here. _Maybe he left..._ She grabbed her small pile of files and exited the room, walking as slow as she reasonably could.

Chloe was unsurprised to find Lucifer spinning in the chair at her desk. She steeled herself before grabbing the back of the chair, nearly upending him to the floor, and spinning him around to face her. Thankfully, his face was clear of hellfire.

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

“I got bored.”

“You told me yesterday you were leaving.”

“Ah yes, that was before I knew my brother was in town.”

“Michael?”

“Yes,” his smile fell. “You beware of him, detective.”

“Of _him_?” she laughed, stolid guffaws leaving her mouth louder than intended.

Lucifer pressed his lips together. “Yes. An angel’s presence here, especially _his_ , is bad news. Remember, detective, history was written by the victors.”

Chloe pulled back from the chair to place the files down and turned to lean against the desk. “So, if history was written by the victors, what did they get wrong?”

Lucifer matched Chloe’s challenging stare with a grin. “You tell me, there must be something knocking around in that brilliant mind of yours, considering your actions.”

“I’m sorry that my perfectly reasonable behavior upset you.” She leaned forward, placing her hands on the armrests, trapping him.

“Au contraire detective, I’m having as much fun as a crackhead who just found his lighter.”

Their faces were inches apart, neither willing to move to admit defeat. Lucifer’s grin widening and Chloe’s eyes gleaming, looking through her lashes into the familiar warm brown. Eyes were the window to the soul, she had always heard, but what Lucifer’s eyes revealed was a complete diversion from the legends. There was not a spark of malevolence. For the first time, she noticed the bronze rays scattered between the acorn brown, the beams of light warming her to her core. She barely held back a gasp at the tingling of her skin. _Snap out of it, Chloe_.

“So I assume you being here means you’ll be helping me with paperwork.”

“Degrading me to menial tasks, I see. Is this my punishment? Touché detective.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and straightened. “Well, that seems to be the only thing you’re good for at the moment, aside from being a butt warmer,” she said, gesturing toward her chair. “Go home, Lucifer. I’m on desk duty. Paperwork is all I have.”

He stood up as if to leave, but instead returned with a second chair.

“You’re going to help me?”

“I can’t leave you alone with Michael running amok, can I? What kind of devil do you take me for?”

She scoffed. “Fine. But we’re organizing my way.”

The next several hours found Lucifer and Chloe sitting side by side working their way through stacks upon stacks of forms. They fell into a rhythm: review, sign, staple, sort, neither of them attempting to disrupt the unanticipated companionship teetering on unfamiliarity. Despite the comfortable silence, a solid foot of space remained between them. Chloe was well aware of his distance, her right arm tingling at his proximity. The undercurrent of uneasiness was still present. She was one spark short of an electrical storm.

Lucifer reached toward a pile in the middle of the table, accidentally brushing Chloe’s hand. With a small intake of breath she jerked her hand back, eyes wide open and heart beating rapidly in her chest... but it didn’t stop there. A haze surrounded her, encroaching on her space, suffocating her, blinding her to any and all reason. Pulse racing, she tried to breathe, the fog now obscuring her hearing. Chloe ran while she knew she still could and shut herself into the small bathroom. _What is happening?_ Pins and needles smothered her body up to the crown of her head. Limbs stiffening, she reached up to touch her cheeks, rocked from the sensation, the paresthesia too much to bear. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t breathe. Wheezing, she slid down to the floor in jerky movements, hoping whatever this was will pass. The seconds were minutes, and minutes were hours. Time ticked by, leaving Chloe behind in her new hell, desperate for control of her body.

A faint knocking came. “Chloe? Are you in there?”

Her friend’s voice was murky. But it was there, nonetheless. Ella opened the bathroom door slowly to peek her head through. Gasping, she immediately slammed and locked the door behind her to sit down next to her friend, bringing Chloe into the tightest bear hug she has ever received.

“Oh my God, Chloe, what happened?”

Chloe couldn’t respond, the imaginary cord around her throat tightening, the shallow breaths and grunts her only tool for communication. Ella’s voice was soothing, hushing her as she hyperventilated, rocking her to slow her inner pace. Ella spoke, “Let’s play a game of I spy, hm? Let’s see…” She looked around the small bathroom. “I spy what Officer Rodriguez _must_ be using for a toothbrush.”

To Ella’s surprise, a small laugh forced itself out between the sobs, Chloe’s eyes looking up from her cramped fingers to examine the bathroom. Her eyes scanned around her, giving up after a few seconds, but with a heartening reply: “Ew, Ella.”

Ella snorted and chuckled, hugging her friend tighter. Soon enough, she could feel Chloe’s tremulous shakes loosen, the cries soften and her breaths begin to even. The silence was only broken by occasional sniffling and the faint memory of the precinct around them.

“How did you know to look for me?” Chloe whispered, looking up at Ella. She could see, her vision no longer a narrow kaleidoscope.

“Lucifer came to get me. He sounded worried.”

Chloe shut her eyes, residual tears slowly moving down her cheeks, igniting the tingling sensation remaining on her skin. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to call Linda for you? You should probably see her…”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“Chloe, you just had a no-holds-barred panic attack.”

No, this was just a setback. She couldn't bother Linda with this, but... she looked down to see her hands still trembling. Reality kicked in. Her face was wet, the pins and needles sensation muted but persistent. She was on the noxious floor of the bathroom, for fuck’s sake.

Resigning herself to the truth, she acquiesced. “Okay.”

* * *

Chloe sat across from Linda on the plushy couch. The office was welcoming, the plants creating a fresh atmosphere with the aroma of eucalyptus and lavender. She was at home here, not only because of the tranquil decor or the sharp scents but because of her friend sitting across from her, the finishing touch completing the mosaic of serenity.

“It’s good to see you, Chloe. How are you?”

“I - uh, I’m okay, actually.” Her pitch was raised, nodding at Linda.

“You sound unsure.”

“I - well, I saw Lucifer. Twice.”

“Oh,” she nodded in encouragement, “and how did it go?”

Chloe opened her mouth, attempting to begin the next sentence. It seemed her voice was taking a hiatus, the only indication of her inner intensity beginning to bubble over. She sniffed and blinked to force the tears away. Linda did not speak. Instead, she handed her a small box of tissues from across the table.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to -”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Emotions are always welcome here.”

Chloe smiled through the tears, one of them escaping and slowly making a path down her cheek. She blew her nose and took another breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around herself before continuing. “We met for dinner, which we didn’t even get to eat. He walked out on me.”

Linda leaned forward, her eyebrows disappearing into her blonde fringe. “Excuse me, he _what_?”

“I - I tried. I told him that I wasn’t going anywhere, and he left. But then, he shows up to work this morning as if -” she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s like last night never happened. But he stayed and did paperwork with me, which -” she closed her eyes, more tears falling from the pressure, and shook her head. “I let him work with me. I thought I was okay, but he barely touched me and I… _freaked._ ”

“What do you mean?”

Chloe’s voice shook, recalling the crushing sensations. “For some reason, I couldn’t let him touch me. I don’t know, I - I panicked? Something came over me… I had to hide in the bathroom. I can’t explain it.”

“It must've triggered something deep within you. All emotions, even suppressed ones, can have a physical response.” Linda paused to readjust her position in the chair, leaning toward Chloe. "They can fester and devolve quickly into what you experienced today, which was most likely an anxiety attack. Traumatic events overwhelm our ability to cope.”

“Traumatic? No, I'm not traumatized.” Chloe shook her head.

“A traumatic event by definition is an experience that causes physical, emotional, or psychological harm. Think about it. Not only did you learn who Lucifer truly was, but you saw it first hand. And that’s only one part of the equation. The man you were about to marry attempted to kill you, and then was murdered himself. I’d say that’s three traumatic events compounded into a short period of time.”

She laughed humorlessly, “When you put it that way…”

Linda smiled softly. “The human body’s response to trauma is to mute those emotions and carry it around, hypervigilant of anything that may trigger them because it’s too much to process all at once. To avoid those triggers, you wear that traumatic experience like armor, unable to take it off no matter how many times you’re told the war is over.”

Chloe stared blankly at the tissue in her hands. “So… what do I do?”

“You learn to process. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

* * *

Chloe didn’t return to work after lunch, too raw to go anywhere but home. Placing her keys on the counter, she trudged toward the couch ready to turn her mind off in front of a cheesy Netflix TV series, realizing too late the additional presence in the room.

“Hey, Decker.”

She spun with ferocity reaching for her absent gun on her hip, breathing hard as she recognized the invader. _I can't deal with this right now._

“Maze. You’re lucky I don’t have my gun on me.”

“Yeah, not worried.”

“Oh, right.” she nodded, her voice breathless. “Because you’re - yeah…”

“I wanted to talk.”

Chloe glanced around the empty house, looking back to Maze. The outburst at the station was still fresh on her mind. “ _Great_ planning on your part.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “Look, Decker, I’m not going to hurt you. I would _never_ hurt you or Trixie.”

Chloe’s lackluster chuckles were becoming more and more common these days. “I’m supposed to trust you, how? You’ve been keeping this secret from me for years. We _lived_ together -”

“And _nothing_ happened.”

Chloe didn’t have a response, feeling trapped and unvalidated, forced to agree with the demon. Because Maze was right. She may have caused fairly superficial problems in comparison, like not understanding that making Trixie pot brownies to give to her teacher was inappropriate, but that wasn’t a threat to hers or Trixie’s lives.

“Where have you been, anyway?”

“I had a bounty, took longer than expected. He actually _liked_ when I -”

“Nope, don’t need a recap,” Chloe held her hand up. Maze was just the same. She wasn’t sure why she expected otherwise.

“Prude.”

Chloe was surprised her face didn’t ‘stick that way’ considering the number of times she rolled her eyes. Moving toward the couch where Maze sat spread out, she sat on the arm and gently asked, “Is that all you came here to say?”

Maze grabbed a pillow and hugged it. “I would like to move back in.”

The first response that came into Chloe’s mind was screaming _NO_ , her repressed fear making her decision for her. It was all-encompassing, creating anguish and taking over her life. _No more_. _Time to face the music._

“Your room is still available. I didn’t get around to cleaning out the rest of your torture devices.” Although a real laugh finally came out, she froze at the realization that they _were_ torture devices.

The demon read her mind, “Don’t worry, those are for the freaks who deserve it.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, pinching her lips.

Chloe felt the bile rising in her throat, swallowing to hold it at bay. This was her friend. A demon, but a friend nonetheless. Maybe she was okay with _not_ being okay. The first step. She watched the hell-sent being walk toward her old bedroom. At least some things were sliding back into place. A new normal.

* * *

 _What is going on_? Dan pulled his cruiser away from the curb outside of the offices where the two victims worked, and supposedly did their dirty deeds. They were left exposed in the most degrading way. Was this meant to be punishment? The same type of ritual was also done at the crime scene of the fifteen-year-old boy who most likely was peeping on his neighbor. He was naked waist down, hand gripping his expensive binoculars. It didn’t take much to put two and two together, the bible verse and all signs pointing to coveting his neighbor’s wife. Murder wasn't enough for this killer.

“This is fucked up,” he whispered to himself. They needed an expert. Naturally, no matter how much he hated the guy, he thought of Lucifer. He had a creepy obsession with the bible, his very name reflecting the manic fascination his parents must have passed down. And to get Lucifer, they needed Chloe.

“ _Dammit_ , Chloe!” he slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

At this pace, there will be another body by the end of the week, maybe two. He needed to do _something_. Pulling into the station, he went straight away to see Lieutenant Brown who was typing away on her computer. He knocked.

“Detective Espinoza, how can I help you?”

“Lieutenant, I need a consultant. We had another body drop, and it’s ritualistic. Biblical. Lucifer’s an expert, I need him on the case.”

“Lucifer is benched for the moment, and considering Detective Decker is his direct superior he will not be able to return without her approval.”

“He’s worked cases with me before. Look, he’s not a detective or even a cop, he shouldn’t have to follow the department policies.” He took a breath. “Lieutenant, this just became serial.”

She eyed him beadily over the glasses perched on the end of her nose. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

On a mission, he left, heading toward Ella’s lab for updates on the newest murder, not bothering to knock.

“Do you have anything?”

Pulling one earbud out of her ear, she grabbed a file and turned toward him. “Estimated time of death is eighteen hours ago, around seven to eight at night. No DNA under the fingernails or broken skin on the knuckles, so no sign of defense. They weren’t drugged, _but_ they did share some of the same stomach contents.” She slid the results across the table. “It looks like tapas.”

“Tapas… shared appetizers. Pretty intimate. They must’ve been on a date.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She grinned.

“Thanks, Ella." He scratched behind his ear. "And, uh... any new info on the other thing we may or may not be looking into?”

She groaned, rubbing her eye with the palm of her hand. “Well, all of the fingerprints on the guns matched the perps you arrested at the scene. Although, there was an extra gun you found with a partial fingerprint I couldn’t get a hit on. Either it was an extra assault rifle, or someone else was there.”

“Did you run the partial against the fingerprints of the other perps?”

“Yeah, no matches. So, my gut tells me…”

“Someone else was there.” He tapped the file in hand against the table in thought. ”Good work Ella.”

“At your service!” she shouted after him, replacing her headphones and returning to work.

* * *

_I followed you from church this morning. It’s funny how you claim to believe, you liar. Toiling away at the cafe for eight hours wasn’t enough. You continued to violate the laws in the evening. I couldn’t stop my leg from shaking as I pursued your taillights to the darkened parking lot of your dorm._

_You took too much time to get your things together after you opened your door. You couldn’t see me? You weren’t afraid? I couldn’t wait for you. Your body hurled over the center console, the blood dripping from your empty head into the passenger seat. How dare you take the rush away from me? Couldn’t you have thrashed away? Or cried? I took my knife out and tore open your shirt, trying to hold back my scream as I saw the gash down your side. Now it’s messy. And it’s your fault. I plunged the sharp edge into your thick belly, scratching out your sins for your trip into the abyss._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay readers, this is getting more and more difficult to write. I'm having such bad writer's block. I'm so sorry for the delay. It's not my favorite, but it's written. So there!
> 
> The next update probably won't be for another 2 weeks. But I don't know, season 5 might give me the right about of inspiration. It's releasing on my 30th birthday! Best present ever, am I right?
> 
> But here it is... Chapter 6!

_I am empathetic to a certain degree. After all, the teenage years bring out the desire to sin. I saw you deliberately dishonoring your parents, going against their laws as you snuck out the window. Time and time again. For what, a party? Was it worth it? You’re pathetic. The car you were to meet was waiting, but they didn’t get the chance to see you, did they?_

* * *

It wasn’t unusual for Lux to be vibrating with life on a Sunday evening following Lucifer’s set. The beat pulsed in time with the strobe light, the writhing bodies appearing in slow motion with a glistening sheen of perspiration, trying to block out the looming threat of the upcoming workweek. With catlike grace and cold eyes guarding his deeply coveted kingdom, Lucifer slithered between his devotees. On his second scan around the room, he caught Maze’s eye by the staircase.

Maze arrived at the elevator seconds before him. The ride was quick and silent, soon at the bar of his penthouse pouring themselves bourbon. “What did you find?”

“He’s human.” She took a sip.

“ _Congratulations_ , Sherlock. What am I paying you for?”

She sneered and folded her arms. “He’s sharp. He knows how to cover his tracks from a demon.”

He frowned, tapping his fingers across the countertop. “A celestial insider, is he?” Cain wouldn’t have let any of his minions in on the dirty secret. He walked out onto the balcony and gazed across his terrestrial home, the city below pulsing with life. _Where, and who, could he be?_ The surprisingly cool breeze from the sea picked up the hair on the back of his neck. If he was mortal, he would have shivered, but not from the chill of the air.

* * *

Dust mites floated blithely by the open windows only to disappear into the shadows of Lucifer’s bedroom seconds later. Four people filled the California King, bodies in various states of undress barely covered by the liquidity of black silk sheets. The morning was serene. But, like every treasured moment in Lucifer’s life, the buzzing of his mobile popped his bubble of tranquility. The three Brittanys stirred. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed the offending object before it could fall from the nightstand.

Another call from Detective Douche; he was starting to feel like a booty call.

“If I wanted to talk to you, I’d call you,” he whispered harshly, glancing at the women in his bed.

“Can it, dude. A body dropped.”

Lucifer sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “And? Are you lost?”

“Come on man, we need another set of eyes on the scene.”

“Ignorant and stubborn all in one package, how efficient of you.”

“Just -” Dan’s aggressive sigh came through the phone. “Get here, I’ll text you the address.”

Click.

Lucifer tossed his mobile haphazardly to the accent rug, the aggressive ‘thunk’ muffled. He eyed the sleeping women beside him, two of them curled into each other, the third on his other side, a single stiff nipple peeking out from the covers. He didn’t know where their clothes went, but he supposed they could show themselves out wearing only a smile.

The drive wasn’t as long as he wanted it to be. He pulled into a steep entrance to a dormitory, repurposed from an old seminary school. The leaves from ancient knotted trees shaded the entrance to the romanesque architecture, the crescent shape enfolding the timeworn foliage into a peaceful courtyard. It was a beautiful picture, blotted only by the graphic scene ahead of him. He parked his sleek convertible on the passenger side of the car housing the body of a young co-ed, head leaned over the passenger seat, blank eyes staring straight ahead into dorm windows.

Dan approached and slapped him on the back, eliciting a displeased grunt from Lucifer. “Thanks for comin’ man. Take a look at this.” He led the way to the rusty old car, aggressive slashes in the victim’s stomach, graphemes barely legible due to the intensity. “This is his fourth victim. He’s going through the ten commandments, it looks like.”

“Oh yes, I’m familiar. I was there.”

The detective’s eyebrows furrowed, upper lip curled in confusion. “What?”

“Never mind.” Lucifer adjusted his cufflinks, returning his attention to the body.

Dan eyed him sideways as he walked past, approaching the lab tech. “Ella!” 

The skinny-jean clad scientist was crouched down taking shots with her Digital SLR camera, too enraptured with the crime scene to pay attention to her superior. She switched the lenses, grabbing more photos within the several-decade-old car before jumping at the proximity of the detective and consultant.

“Lucifer! Hi!”

“Ms. Lopez! Fetching, as ever,” he gave her a rare, full smile.

“What have you got?” Dan interjected.

Ella snapped her fingers to get the attention of a boot, a newbie officer, to hand her the file as she turned to address Dan. “This murder is different from the other three we’ve seen. In the pictures here,” she referred to her files, “his cuts were deliberate. On this body, he was imprecise. Really, really messy. The cuts are much deeper and the clothes are shredded.” She gestured to the congealed blood covering the torso of the victim, the residue sending them a vivid image of hot blood dripping from her skull into the passenger seat.

Lucifer took in the bloody scene. Of course, the victim made the killer angry, based on the egregious slashes marring her form. But how? He was an agent of his Father, following the rules written eons ago, so that means... “She disobeyed him.” Lucifer blurted out.

“What makes you say that?” Dan asked, turning toward him.

“I would know. The killer’s whole schtick is enforcing the tyrant’s boring rules on humanity.”

“You mean God?”

"Yes,” Lucifer glanced at him in exasperation. “Honestly, Daniel. Have we met?”

“Okay, man…” Dan massaged his temple in circles. “What spurred him to start killing then? Typically, it takes weeks - sometimes months - for murderers to escalate into serial killers. This guy? Days. The victims are all unrelated, crossing gender, race, and age lines. There’s no pattern.”

Lucifer stared at the mutilated young woman in the car, memories of his father’s despotism ever-present in his mind. “They all sinned.” 

“She worked.” Dan raised his eyebrow at Lucifer. “On a Sunday.”

“Douche, I can’t read the killer’s mind. I’m not Voldemort.”

“Right, just the Devil.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“Detective Espinoza,” Officer Rodriguez appeared between the two, interrupting Dan’s retort. “We’ve got her roommate here. She found the body.”

Following a quick goodbye to Ella, they made their way to a cracked stone bench outside the entrance to the dorm where the young woman sat, tears smearing mascara from the night before across her cheeks. Her eyes were the only part of her that were still, remaining fixed on the car, the rest of her shaking despite the early September heat of LA.

Dan greeted the young woman, gently helping her stand and guiding her away from the scene to restrict her view. Finally eye to eye, Dan opened his mouth to begin a gentle interrogation, but before he could start questioning, Lucifer butted in.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What did she do?”

She brought her sweatshirt covered hand over her mouth as her sobs renewed with a vengeance, eyes widening at Lucifer’s inappropriate question and proximity. “Excuse me,” Dan addressed the woman and pulled Lucifer aside by the arm. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’ve been getting that question a lot lately, should I be worried?”

“Dude, just…” he closed his eyes and sighed. “Let me do the talking.”

They walked back into the shadows underneath the ancient branches as Lucifer adjusted his Prada.“You’re the victim’s roommate? Katherine Moore?”

She nodded, sniffling. “Katie.”

“Tell us what happened.” Dan’s pen hovered over the pages of his notebook.

“She should’ve been home by one. I called her a few times when she didn’t show up - I usually stay up for her - but she didn’t answer. I didn’t think it was a big deal since I saw her car in the lot outside from the window.” She pointed toward their window looking out over the blue and red flashing parking lot. “Her car door was open. It… it just looked like she was grabbing her things…” she struggled to work past the tears. “So I went to bed, but she still wasn’t here this morning, so I went downstairs, and - and…” The tears turned into a sob as she put her hand to her mouth.

“Thank you for sharing Katie,” Dan acknowledged her as she nodded, wiping her nose with her overly large sweatshirt. “What can you tell us about her schedule?”

“Um, she worked hard.” Another sniffle. “When she wasn’t in class or doing her homework, she was at one of her three jobs. I don’t know how she does it, she never stops working….” 

“Where did she work?”

“She does - did a few hours at the library on campus, but off-campus she had a job at the cafe down the street and did security at… I don’t know the name.” She shook her head, closing her eyes.

“If there’s anything else you can think of, here’s my card.” Dan pulled out a stack from his jacket pocket, swiping one from the top. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

And with that, Dan walked away from the girl, expecting Lucifer to follow. But the Devil stayed put examining the haggard college girl up and down. “Tell me,” he asked, snagging the enraptured young woman into his visual grip, stepping forward. “Did you like your roommate? Was she what you expected? What you truly desired?”

Her eyes went glassy. “I… I wanted someone to party with. She was boring, I wanted a new roommate.”

“Oh?” Lucifer pulled back, his eyebrows raised.

The girl threw her hands over her open jaw, eyes wide. “I mean…”

“Looks like we have our killer, Daniel,” he said, turning the woman around to arrest her with cuffs he pulled from his pocket.

“Where did you get -” Dan patted down his belt with wide eyes, hands landing on an empty belt loop. “Come on, man,” He snatched his cuffs from Lucifer and replaced them, grabbing the consultant’s shoulder to direct him away. “I’m so sorry,” he said to the young woman who remained, shellshocked.

Dan pulled Lucifer by the arm back toward the parking lot, the Devil complaining about his wrinkled suit the whole way.

* * *

The precinct was packed Monday morning when Michael walked in, Teresa waving him through as she directed calls on the phone. He stopped in the middle of the bullpen to inhale, wafting in the energy of busy human life. This life was inspiring. Working with his father’s creation doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, could he say he understood what his fallen brother was fighting for? Maybe. But his brother didn’t deserve a life like this. Michael followed the rules and did his father’s bidding, for what?

He made eye contact with Chloe across the bullpen. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, giving her a strict authoritarian presence needed for a detective. 

_Oh no…_ Chloe thought as Michael’s form approached her out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t keep balancing these two, as if her life wasn’t insane enough already. Lucifer’s words stuck in her head. Be wary.

“Michael,” she stood as he approached, reaching her hand out. Michael learned this from his brother Amenadiel in heaven. A handshake. He responded in turn, grasping her arm and wringing it intensely. 

Her whole body shook. “Oh, okay then,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Did you find your brother?”

“I did.” His smile reached his eyes.

She shifted her eyes sideways before meeting his again. It was surprising how he was still in one piece considering the history between the two. “So… what can I do for you?”

“I’d like to help you.”

“O - oh!” her eyebrows shot up.

He paused. “Like my brother does.”

“Oh.” She furrowed her lined eyebrows and tilted her head. “Why the sudden interest?”

“I want to understand why my brother chose this place.”

Her eyes widened. How could she, the insignificant Chloe Decker, contain the oldest blood feud in history within her six hundred square foot bullpen? _Absolutely not._ She cleared her throat. “Well… isn’t there another way for you to understand that? There’s a bit of a process to become a civilian consultant. It’s not exactly something you can walk into.”

All hopefulness Michael held in his chest fell uncomfortably into his stomach, his eyes falling with it. “How did Samael establish his life here? With you?”

Chloe wrung her hands together. “Well, he helped me in one of my cases when one of his friends was killed.” 

_“Lucifer. Morningstar.”_ He had said.

_“Is that uh, a stage name?”_

_“God-given, I’m afraid.”_

Now, she could laugh at the irony and her blindness to the truth. He really never lied.

“He had friends?” Michael looked up into Chloe’s eyes, seeing how her eyes shined bright, crinkles forming as she talked of his brother.

“Yes. All of us here are his friends.” She tilted her head the other way as the corners of Michael’s lips turned into a frown. “But... that doesn’t seem like you.”

“No,” he responded, defeated. “I’m a protector, a healer. Not a punisher.” He sank into a worn chair next to her desk that must have remained from a prior witness leaving a statement.

“Makes sense…” she said under her breath, sitting down with him, folding her beige cardigan underneath her to avoid wrinkles. “Well, um, we do take volunteers. You could start there if you’d like.” 

He looked up, hope ballooning in his chest. A chance. Finally, an ‘in’ to his brother’s life. The smile returned to his face. “Thank you, Detective.”

Chloe squinted her eyes in response, the sound of her title somehow wrong coming out of his mouth. “Of course. Does Lucifer know you’re here?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond, only for another strikingly similar voice to take its place. 

“Mikey! I’d say hello, but I’d prefer to give you a swift kick to the face. Which cheek do you prefer, your ugly side or your uglier side?” 

The vibrancy of the precinct slowed as the scene unfolded before them. Lucifer perplexed them. Seeing his twin brother was a peek behind the heavy curtain Lucifer held closed despite his openness about… well, everything else. Little did they know, they were witnessing history.

Dan wasn’t an exception. His eyes widened as he and Lucifer walked up, getting a view of the twins up close. The similarities and yet blatant differences between the two struck him, spanning from their hair, clothes, and even posture. Michael straightened, his height matching Lucifer’s, the calm demeanor gone. “You tried that once. It didn’t end well for you.” His eyes flashed.

“Don’t take yourself so _seriously_ brother, no one else does.” He laughed, something off with his tone. “What are you doing here? Did father send you to spy on me?” Lucifer’s grin was malicious, anger sparking in his eyes. 

“Father doesn’t know I’m here.”

“I thought he was omnipotent? Or was it impotent -”

Dan walked over to Chloe’s side, watching the pair as they tossed insults back and forth. “Who pissed in that gene pool?” he whispered in her ear.

Chloe barely heard him as she watched the two brothers. As far as she knew, the last time they met a heavenly war occurred. And yet, here they were right in front of her desk… what will there be next? World War III? Another flood?

 _"Enough!_ ” She yelled as she stood, the two brothers turned with wide eyes. “This is a police precinct. If you two keep acting like children, then _neither_ of you will be working here. Now -”

Lucifer interrupted, turning to Michael with a high pitched giggle. “Work here? _You?_ You _have_ come here to spy on me. Don’t lie.”

Michael averted his eyes. “No, I came for the same reason you did.”

“Spite?”

Michael’s lips thinned, going quiet, only increasing the tension in the room. He raised his eyes, the same threatening brown boring into each other. “Samael, you have no idea what it was like after - ?”

 _‘Samael?’_ Dan mouthed to Chloe, eyebrows raising.

Lucifer let out a harsh laugh, “Oh _poor Mikey_ , the perfect son. Did Father not give you enough love? Daddy issues, hmm? Seems to be a common theme in our family.” His false grin fell, lip curling as he approached his brother, who didn’t back down. Their noses were centimeters apart.

The whole station fell silent to hear the exchange between the two, but to no avail, as Lucifer lowered his voice, gritting his teeth. “If you think for one second -”

“I was stuck in the middle!” Michael bellowed with a red face. Lucifer stepped back, eyes widening. There was never this much tension in the precinct, even more so than Chloe’s investigation into Malcolm Graham. Blinds from the private offices opened, onlookers from the walkway above peering over the side. All eyes turned their direction. Not even shuffling papers interfered with the quiet.

“I made countless excuses for you!” He breathed heavily. “You didn’t even think about the position you put me in, you only thought about yourself!” Michael jabbed his finger into his brother’s chest, pushing him back into the divider between Chloe’s desk and another detective’s. “What kind of decision did you expect me to make?!”

“For you to stand by your brother!” Lucifer roared as he stepped further into Michael’s space, forcing his brother back. “The one that protected you -”

“Ironic, since now I’m the one protecting others _from_ you.” Michael held his ground.

Lucifer pulled away as if burned. If the station was quiet before, it was nothing compared to the silence that permeated now. “Tell me, Michael. And don’t lie, you know more than anyone how much I hate it.”

The exertion of letting out emotions festering for hundreds of thousands of years left Michael panting. He was tired. There was no point to this. “I want a life. On earth.” Michael whispered to Lucifer, only loud enough for him to hear. His voice cracked, dropping his eyes from his brother’s, shoulders drooping from their typical posture. “You’re right, I was the perfect son. I did everything right. I followed orders without question. And yet,” he gestured toward Lucifer. “How is the one who broke all the rules, punished, and banished for all eternity the only one truly living his life? How is it that the one who did everything right was forgotten? I want what you have. I want to _live_. That… that’s why I’m here.” He breathed.

Lucifer didn’t speak at first. He leaned back, eyes wide, taking in his perfect brother. The one who met him in battle, the sword of Michael against the staff of Samael. What did he miss? What happened in heaven when he left? And why did his brother finally realize this now? What manipulative plan was his father sticking his fingers in? He wouldn’t fall for it. Not this time.

“I knew you’d come around. Too little too late, I’m afraid.” Lucifer adjusted his cufflinks and turned on his heel. “Call me, Douche!” he yelled behind him at the detective. 

* * *

The familiar drive home after another session with Linda calmed her, Trixie at her side chattering on about her day at school. Orange light passed through the tinted windows of her cruiser. She was lethargic, but the anticipated reunion of Trixie with Maze was not allowing the afternoon sun to lull her to sleep on the road. They pulled into the lot, her daughter continuing to talk despite the dull “uh-huh”s she was receiving from her mother.

“Trixie,” she interrupted, Trixie stopping mid-description of thwapping a bully across the head with her backpack. “I have a surprise for you.”

She gasped. “What is it?!”

Asking Trixie to keep it together was like asking a fire not to burn. Her eyes lit up like the sun, a smile splitting her face, energy from her body threatening to erupt. Chloe couldn’t help but smile widely, the first true smile she has produced in the past two weeks. “Well, you’ll have to go inside to find out.”

“Is it a present? Is it a pony? Is it Lucifer?” 

Chloe’s smile faltered, unnoticed by her daughter. Trixie raced ahead of her before she could open the car door, attempting to force open the locked doorknob. “Come on Mom, hurry up!” 

Chloe slouched and dragged her feet, shutting the car door behind her. “But Trixie, I’m so tired,” she played, sweeping the back of her hand against her forehead as if about to pass out from the heat. 

“Uuuugh Mom!” Trixie moaned, jiggling the door, but before Chloe could pull out her key, it opened from within.

“Shut the fu -” The blaze of hellfire burned in Maze’s eyes, teeth gritted. It didn’t last long. “Trix?”

“Maze!” Trixie’s squeal pierced through the two women’s eardrums. Chloe couldn’t believe the amount of energy coming from her daughter, as if it was sapped from her and bottled in Trixie. Maze didn’t have to drop to the ground to hug her, as Trixie jumped as high as she could, relying on the strength of the demon to reach out and hold on. As always, Trixie was astute, knowing to whom she could give her complete trust. The demon squeezed tight. She hardly fit into Maze’s arms anymore.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Maze whispered.

“Really? That’s silly. Why?”

Maze glanced at Chloe, setting the girl down to the floor. “No reason, just very busy. Have you been practicing with your knife set?” And with that, Trixie darted inside the house, leaving Chloe to close the door behind and throw her keys on the counter. Surprisingly, she found herself reverting to familiar habits with the woman, even dealing with the return of Maze’s cookie cereal despite her objections. 

Why was she able to adjust to Maze so easily? Her thoughts roamed to her session with Linda earlier that day. The betrayal from Lucifer was the fiercest, her vulnerability being at its worst around him. And that’s not including the fact that he’s the biblical Devil. 

When she thought about it, it all made sense. She put her head in her hands as she sank into the couch, thinking how stupid she was for not believing it. The fear of her perps when left alone with him, the ability to draw out people’s desires, and his magnetism. But that wasn’t what drove her crazy. Why wasn’t _she_ affected by him? His red eyes came into focus again, but this time she was prepared. She tapped against her legs quickly. _Left, right, left, right, left, right..._ Finally, she closed her eyes, allowing the fear to overwhelm her, to scare her, to force her to look into his eyes in her memory. _Tap tap tap tap tap…_ her pace increased, breathing with it. Linda made confronting whatever was flashing through her mind seem so easy with her guidance. But now, she was alone. And it was never-ending.

To her surprise, her breathing dissented against the rapid pace, gradually diminishing in speed. Odd. Linda warned her this would happen. She slowed her tapping, imagining a safe, content place, like home with Trixie. But that’s not the first image that came to her mind. His eyes flooded her senses, sitting beside the piano with the captivating man. A fullness settled into her heart as she brought her hands to a standstill. He was her home. Her hearth. The source of her poise and inner quiet in her life. 

She laughed fully and the audacity of Lucifer infiltrating both her deepest fears and her deepest desires. _The bastard._ A smile took root, no matter how much she tried to keep it from growing toward her burning realization. 

Trixie peered through the crack in Maze’s door with the woman herself directly above her. Both pairs of eyebrows furrowed. “Mommy? Are you alright?” came the little voice.

“Yes, monkey,” she grinned, looking up toward her roommate. “Maze, can you watch her?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uh, pot brownies.”

“Okay. Bye.” Maze shut the door.

Chloe snatched up her keys and rushed to her car, speeding through traffic before she pulled into Lux’s garage. Security allowed her to pass on sight. She pulled into her very own parking space to the immediate right of his before making her way to the private elevator looming before her. With a ding, she stepped inside, aggressively pressing on the button for the penthouse. 

The hum of the elevator filled her ears as she rose. If only there was awkward elevator music simply to avoid the wheel of her obsessive mind spinning over the ‘what ifs’. Later rather than sooner, the familiar ‘ding’ alerted her to her arrival. She gulped, crossing the threshold of his penthouse.

Lucifer was where she expected him to be, dressed in his red-trimmed black robe at his piano, familiar lowball and cigarette in hand. His home was as if lighted by candles, the orange hue with historic stained glass separating his bedroom giving it an almost cathedral-like appearance. Not that she would ever tell him. The man himself let his curly hair loose. She walked forward, slowly, his eyes looking up, welcoming, her hand running through his hair, kissing him, straddling him, letting his pianist's hands do whatever they -

She shook her head to clear her of the muddied thoughts, finding herself back at the elevator. He looked up at her entrance, the dismissive words on the tip of his tongue dissipated. “Detective,” he greeted in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She took in a breath. “I came to see you.”

“Evidently… but why?”

“I missed you.”

The curl hanging over his forehead moved as he let out a single laugh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She stepped forward into the open space with caution. Even though she was now able to, mostly, deal with the feelings as they came, it didn’t stop them from coming. She stopped at the piano bench, Lucifer moving aside to allow her to sit. “This looks familiar,” she said, bringing her hand up to start the melody to _Heart and Soul._ Lucifer let out a chuckle, entranced eyes following her as he introduced the harmony, a smile gracing his face.

It ended too soon. She had to convince herself to look in his eyes, the irrational fear in the back of her mind. But look she did, eyes locked on his own. “How are you?” she asked. “Honestly?”

“No need to specify, detective, you know I don’t lie.”

“Sorry, yes, absolutely.”

“I’m better, now.” He broke eye contact with her. “Listen, detective, I apologize for my actions at the restaurant. Your choice to remain here, with me, wasn’t at all what I expected. _You_ aren’t what I expected.”

His fingers plunked out a melody she didn’t know, allowing him time to think as the music took up the silence. There’s no chance a being as pure as the detective could care about the real him, his obsessive mind reiterated. But yet again, she surprised him. Chloe covered his hand with hers, stilling his fingers. He held his breath. “You weren’t what I expected either.”

His heart almost burst from his chest. “Are you…” He looked up at her. “Is this real?”

“Last I checked. It was your existence that was in question, not mine.” She snorted out a laugh.

“Oh, I’m a joke to you now, am I?”

“You’ve always been a joke, Lucifer.”

Both held each other's eyes, crinkling at the corners reflected in both of them. Lucifer took in a half breath, a fear of rejection crossing his mind. He continued anyway. “Can I pour you a drink, detective?”

“Is the pope Catholic?”

“Very funny,” he deadpanned as he got up from the piano. Chloe giggled.

“Are you glad you stayed?” she asked as he sat down again, handing her the glass, the beginning of a long night.

“Does Barbie have a plastic fanny?”

* * *

Maze slipped out the door after Chloe arrived home with a wistful smile on her face. Street lights flickered and died as she walked by, draping her in darkness as she headed toward her motorcycle. Turning the thrusters and kicking up the stand, she sped off into the night to find her elusive bounty.

Luckily for her, Los Angeles wasn’t the city that never sleeps. She easily weaved in and out of traffic, following the scent picked up from the loft, bringing her into a starved and destitute section of the city, covered with garbage and fenced with barbed wire. The house was bare from the outside, none of the vibrant blue it was once painted in better days remaining. Decay filtered from the house. She grinned, the stench reminding her of her glory in hell, torturing unsound sociopaths in the ninth circle below.

She parked her motorcycle far enough away to inhibit the noise perforating the walls, giving away her presence. His stench was rampant. Maze followed the clue across the street into the broken home, aged wallpaper ripped from all but a corner of the living room, evidence to the fact that at one point, this was a joyful home. But today, the house was empty. The walls were barren. Happiness was sucked from this household as it aged, leaving nothing but bitterness and rot.

The stairs creaked once as she placed her wedged boot on the first step. Hoping to avoid his flee, she rushed up the stairs, not triggering any further indication of her presence. If the downstairs was desolate, it was nothing compared to the second floor. Mold rotted through the walls, drywall absent in portions giving a view into the once-proud master bedroom. Mazed stalked through, pulling her curved hell-forged knife into her hands to prepare for the worst. Because, despite the fact that he was human, he was cunning. 

A door was open at the end of the hall. Crouching, she kept her back to the wall as she approached the entrance. Nothing moved beside the flashing of lighting from the single window, revealing the torn carpet. She paused at the doorway, breathing.

With a cry, she forced the door open with all of her hell-gifted strength, knives blazing, demonic face free, and smoldering. 

There was nothing.

Except, tacks and string hung on the walls without the coating of dust seen in the rest of the house. Maze could smell him. But he wasn’t here. Sheathing her knives, she crept quietly to the wall, fingering the yarn as she gazed across the empty expanse. The lightning struck quietly without thunder, the storm moving past her, however… She looked into the corner, revealed by the flash. Reaching down, she grabbed the slim piece of paper, the smooth texture revealing a photo.

Chloe.

* * *

_You broke the most important of the commandments. Your life could have been spared, but you allowed pride, the worst of the seven deadly sins, to take over. It wasn’t hard to hear your boasting from my corner of the bar as you took the Lord’s name in vain. You won’t be speaking ever again. I’ve got your tongue, after all._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the full chapter on 9/15/2020! There are some very, very graphic descriptions of violence at the end of this chapter in the italicized sections, just so you're aware. Skip if it you need to. Enjoy the update!

Michael was in his penthouse. _Why was Michael in his penthouse?_

They couldn’t exist near one another for millennia, the dark to his light, the regulator to his tempter, the composition to his discord. They were different, yet they were the same. Day after day, the eyes of his brother stared back at him in the mirror pounding the repetitive mantra into his skull: _you are not alone_. And alone he wasn’t. Not today, unfortunately.

“If I threw a stick, would you go away?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Lucifer huffed and made his way toward the balcony. If only Michael understood. Most likely, the war would still have been waged, but they could have been side by side. He wouldn’t have had to suffer to survive in a world of torture and screams alone. But, their opposing design was their chains, entrapping them in mutual hatred with no key to the lock in sight. Samael was the poison of God, and Michael was the protector. Were they meant to abhor each other, or were they meant to balance each other? 

Michael appeared at Lucifer’s side. Sounds of the city filtered up from below, diluted enough not to impede the rare calm. Together, they gazed across the expanse of the gleaming city, allowing Michael time to think as the sun beat down. Despite their differences, they shared the same irritating pride. Someone needed to fold first for the sake of their brotherhood, and the world. The angel took in a breath preparing for the upcoming barrage of disdain: “I’m sorry.”

Humidity refracted light from the midday sun leaving a hazy view of the world around them. The same applied to Lucifer’s brain at the moment. He did a double-take.

“Was that a sneeze?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

The words he was craving to hear from his pair for eternity was a dream, wasn’t it? Lucifer glanced sideways to find Michael standing stiffly staring across the sea, jaws clenched. Lucifer huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

“Did it hurt to say that or are you just constipated?”

 _His stubborn brother listened_. It might have been very, very late, but he was here. Lucifer clapped his hand on Michael’s shoulder in the comity of their long-absent fraternal bond. “Come on then, if I’m going to publicly admit we’re related you need to look the part.”

A radiant smile reflective of his angelic nature split Michael’s face as he looked down in relief. 

“I mean, this is embarrassing.” Lucifer gestured at Michael’s uncut black hair and frayed jeans. “You look like Yoko Ono after a few joints. How do you sleep at night?”

* * *

“Decker.”

She jumped at the stern voice. Lieutenant Brown stood in front of her desk with files in her hand, a neutral expression on her face. A flipbook of reasons for the boss’s presence flashed through Chloe’s mind as she looked up, each page depicting an increasingly ominous image. 

Lt. Brown handed her two files. “You’re on deck. Ms. Lopez sent these on ahead. She’s at the scene now.”

Chloe’s internal flipbook erupted into flames. Heart pounding, she gaped at the lieutenant’s emerging smile. “I’m cleared?”

“Yes, your therapist reached out to me this morning. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She forced her voice past the frog in her throat. Gratitude welled up within her toward her friend. She owed her a drink.

“Good luck, Detective,” the lieutenant winked over her glasses and walked off.

Chloe was about to burst as she opened the first file, glancing at the stack of pictures Ella had printed. The victim was a sophomore in high school. His hair was cleanly cut, clothes freshly washed, and new shoes on his feet. He was taken care of. The marks on his body were unreal, as if the cuts were photoshopped. On his shirtless torso, the etching crowed of the murderer’s sick self-serving purpose. She squinted, bringing the picture closer.

“Exodus 20 verse 12,” she whispered, dropping the file on her desk and turning to her computer.

 _‘Honor your father and mother,’_ it read. 

The boy was placed just below an open window. _Sneaking out?_ Trixie hadn’t gotten to that age yet, but the teenage years was something she would have to deal with at some point. She sighed, forcing the image of a teenage Trixie with a torn shirt and blank eyes out of her head. Putting aside both the file and violating images, she moved on to the next mystery.

This crime was a bit more bearable for her to see as a mother. An adult male was shoved behind a dumpster in a back alley of a bar, yet with etchings displayed proudly on his extended arm. She flipped through the photos unaffected by the brutality, but her eyes widened at the next photo; an open mouth made up of teeth, the uvula, and a bloody stump. Her breath held on its own as she combed through. _Where is the tongue?_

“His first trophy,” she whispered.

A puzzle to solve, the mystery of it pulling her from her anxious thoughts. This wasn’t just an insane riddle. It gave her mind something to do, ridding her of the strenuous thoughts of Lucifer’s shadow and forcing her into old habits: new file, case review, call Lucifer. Was it wrong for her to be excited about this? 

It was several nights ago that they saw each other, with texts in between here and there. A whole swarm of butterflies was coming back with force, making a home for themselves in her stomach as she pulled her phone from her pocket. She placed her hand over her mouth to hide her smile as it rang.

“Detective!” 

She could see his bright eyes and award-winning smile in her mind as he answered the phone. What was he wearing today? Brioni with Louboutins to match, the tailoring accenting his broad shoulders and tight -

She cleared her throat. “How are you?” Leaning back in her chair, she peeked around the bullpen for eavesdroppers, absentmindedly twirling a string of her hair.

“Is that a pickup line?”

"Do you want it to be?” She smirked.

“My my, detective!”

She leaned forward to hide her blush behind her computer screen, catching sight of the bloody stump. Channeling her inner Lt. Brown, she schooled her features.

“I have a case.”

“A case, you say?”

“Two, actually.” She took in a breath. “I need my partner.”

* * *

LA back alleys were silent confidants to the underbelly of society, but today, this one unwittingly spilled its secrets. It had never been more crowded. Cops swarmed the area like bees on honey, tape cordoning off the worst of the remnants to deny reporters and casual onlookers. At least this alley could keep some of its mystery.

“Welcome back, Chlo.”

“Thanks, Dan.” Chloe didn’t glance his way as she ducked underneath the yellow tape, too distracted by the body. “What do we know so far?”

“It’s the same fucking psycho,” Dan shrugged as they walked toward the row of dumpsters together. “ _Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.”_

Chloe rolled her eyes, “So... what, does this guy wander around finding people who just happen to fit his quota?”

“As far as we know. There’s no relation between any of the victims.”

“Who was the first one?”

“The peeping-Tom in the bedroom. Teenager.”

“We need to explore that one further. Serial killers _always_ know their first victim.”

When they reached the body, Chloe bent down over the corpse with her pen-light to illuminate the rare shadows of the alley around the victim. She had already seen the victim up close from the photos, now to fill in the blanks. Nothing was out of the ordinary, as far as her knowledge of alleys went. A few homes made of boxes littered the area along with the inhabitants’ meals disguised as trash, or most likely were trash, she assumed. 

“Any witnesses?”

“Nobody has come forward,” Dan reported from behind her.

She nodded and directed her attention to the bins. “We’re gonna need this scoured,” she muttered to herself. Stepping back, she called to the group of policemen buzzing at the entrance to the alley. “Hey, can I get someone to start going through this?”

Without looking to see who pulled the short straw, she continued on her course, looking under, behind, and into nooks and crannies not seen in the photos. It didn’t take her long to get a hit. There, shoved between the metal slats making up the industrial garbage bins, was a small carving knife with a worn wooden handle. Her heart rate quickened as she pulled a glove from her pocket to grab the offending item. “Can I get an evidence bag?”

A rookie cop shuffled up to her holding open a small clear baggie for her to drop in the knife, quickly speeding it away in a police cruiser to get it to the station. _Come on Ella, work your magic._

With a fifth - or maybe ninth - cursory glance around the area, Chloe returned to the body. The victim’s eyes and mouth were open to reveal the extent of the damage. In the gaping oral wound, there was minimal congealed blood, consistent with the knife etchings like a tattoo gone wrong. “Post mortem cuts, it looks like.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ella said, too,” Dan agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Any idea why he took the tongue?”

“Too much trash talk. Get it?” The weight of Lucifer’s hand fell on Dan’s shoulder to point his attention toward the dumpsters. _Don’t laugh,_ Chloe chided herself, pulling her lips in between her teeth to hide her smile.

“Ugh…” Dan shrugged off Lucifer’s hand. “Really, dude? That’s a terrible pun.”

Chloe stood from the body to greet her partner. Squinting, she looked up to see his features looming above her, his silhouette blocking the afternoon sun. “It’s good to have you back, Lucifer.”

“It’s good to be had, Detective.”

A glint appeared in his steady brown eyes as he watched her, matched by the small uptick of the corner of his lips. The silhouette from the sun gave the Devil a heavenly appearance, diminishing any imperfections earthly living inflicted on his ageless form. She couldn’t look away. The curve of his lips, the knowing look in his eye, his cocky stance with hands in his pockets. She dreamed about this before she learned of his identity. Now, she had finally climbed her way out of rising waters and was wading steadily toward dry land. She could breathe, and here he was. Her fresh air. 

Dan’s eyes drilled into her back. Right, the dead body. 

“So, Lucifer.”

He angled his confident gaze toward her. “Yes, detective?”

“It seems you’ve had some experience working a few of these cases with Dan.”

He nodded once in agreement, a slight smirk ever-present.

“What would you do first?”

“Well, inspect the body of course.” He stepped forward slowly, eyes locked into Chloe’s green. Her heart jumped into her throat. The sound of gravel crunching beneath, the scent of his cologne, and the cooling sensation of his approaching form overwhelmed her senses from all directions. Her heart pumped as her eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t need to see to feel his presence growing ever nearer, head lowering, hands leaving his pockets...

He walked right past her. 

Chloe let out a breath as the tingling sensation subsided. He was kneeling next to the body, of course. What was she thinking? This was disrespectful to the victim. Opening her eyes, she turned around to find Lucifer digging around in the man’s pockets.

But she couldn’t concentrate. Dan was looking right through her, expressionless. Whenever she thought she could hide her thoughts up her sleeve, Dan was always there to remind her she was in a tank top. Ashamed of her transparency, she looked anywhere but directly at Lucifer. “What did you find?”

“Clarity.”

Furrowing her brows, she turned to see Lucifer squatting next to the body finishing up a long drag from a joint. The smell reminiscent of her college days completely devoured the mix of garbage and her consultant’s cologne. She scoffed. “Really? Our first day back?”

He grinned. “Already took the hit, got to embrace the high.”

Rolling her eyes, she held her hand out to take it from him. He didn’t argue as he put it out in the gravel before handing it over. “Brings you back, doesn’t it, Detective?”

“It sure does,” she deadpanned. Internally she was smiling, not that she would ever tell him of course. This was them, the quintessential ‘Deckerstar’ the precinct affectionately dubbed. _They had to be okay, weren’t they?_

A phone rang. With her head still in the clouds, Chloe reached toward her pocket absentmindedly, surprised to find her cell silent. Instead, Dan walked away with his phone to his ear, looking back at Chloe over his shoulder as he stepped into the street and hurried away. The hope blossoming in her chest was abruptly run over.

“Detective?” 

“Mm?” She stared at the corner behind which Dan disappeared and narrowed her eyes. _What was that about?_

“Do you - do you think we’ll ever get back to how we were before? Remember the good old days, as they say?”

Her thoughts crashed down to earth at the sobering question as she turned towards her partner, thoughts of Dan’s strange behavior forgotten. Her emotions weren’t just a yoyo today. They were a cats cradle, being pulled into multiple different shapes and sizes by the players around her. First Dan with his secret, and now this? It was something she had been wanting to ask herself for days but was too scared to discover the answer. Lucifer was far braver than she was.

“I want to.” Her voice came out in a near whisper.

He smiled wearily. “How?”

“I think we’re on the right track, but…” She took a breath and sent up a little mental prayer. There’s no way this couldn’t work. “How about like this?”

With a huge swing, she pulled back and slapped him across the face with all the momentum her small body could carry. Of all the hits in her life, this was her home run. She was Babe Ruth. His entire torso bent sideways, hand coming up to touch the raw flesh of his face. With eyes like saucers and jaw to the floor, Lucifer faced the detective.

“What was that for? That hurt!”

“Well, you said you wanted to remember the good old days.” Chloe couldn’t help but smirk at his aghast expression. “Did that do the trick?”

Rubbing his jaw, Lucifer stared at Chloe as if she was a strange new phenomenon. He grinned. “Just like that. Do it again.”

Chloe snorted. “Get back to work.”

* * *

Dan burst into the station and headed straight toward the lab at the rear of the bullpen. The possibilities flashed through his mind like an old film. _This could be it. The break in the case._ Ella was holding open the door to the darkened room, waiting for him.

“Dan.” She ushered him in and shut the door at his back. “You need to see this.”

One of the few lights in the room came from the computer screen presenting two flashing images of fingerprints. He didn’t need to ask, as Ella directed him to the screen. “This print here? We pulled this off the knife that cut out that man’s tongue. And do you know where this one came from?”

He shrugged. “Where?”

“The gun from Pierce’s crime scene,” she spoke intensely. “They match.”

The bombshell fell silently in the empty lab. He took a few shallow breaths. _Was it April Fools? Was Ella going to slime him?_ He rubbed his hand down his face in anticipation of the prank.

“ _What?_ ” He breathed.

“It’s the same person,” she whispered.

It was no joke. 

“Who is it?” Dan gestured toward the prints on the screen.

“I don’t know, his prints aren’t in the system.” Ella shook her head. “The only reason I was able to compare the two is because we happen to’ve found his fingerprints at another scene. So no criminal convictions or government job.”

“Okay…” His feet couldn’t keep still. Pacing back and forth behind Ella, he put the pieces together. “So how did he go from Pierce’s henchman to biblical avenger?”

Ella shrugged. “Beats me. That’s for you to find out, bro.”

He let out a small laugh. _Holy shit._

“Good work, Ella.”

She flashed a peace sign before pulling on her headphones and returning to the microscope. Dan left her to her devices, pulling out his phone as he emerged from the precinct and headed to his car. His fingers flew quickly across the keys to dial up the best bounty hunter he knew.

“Espinoza, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Maze, hi.”

A pregnant pause. Dan hadn’t stopped to think about how to approach this favor.

“If I wanted to listen to silence I would have gagged my gimp.”

“Right, sorry. Look, I need your help.”

“And?”

“And I need you to track someone down for me. We found a match between fingerprints from the loft and the recent murders.”

“From the loft?”

“Yeah.”

A soft crackling from the connection was the only sound heard over the phone for what felt like minutes but what must have been only seconds. “Huh. Ellen. Who’da thought?”

“Right… can you help me? The only information I can give you is the fingerprint.”

“That would be helping _me_.”

Dan raised his eyebrows. For a fleeting moment, he considered if Lucifer and Maze knew more than they let on. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But no, Lucifer learned his lesson the last time, didn’t he? Pulling open the door of his car, he sat down in the oppressive heat, the phone still on his ear.

“Great, we can help each other, but Maze…” He looked out the window in fear of eavesdroppers despite the privacy of his police cruiser. “There’s no bounty. This is off the books.”

“You owe me.”

“Deal.”

He snapped his phone shut and pulled away from the precinct, a new hope rising in his chest. They would get this motherfucker.

* * *

Michael was still at his penthouse. As unfortunate as that situation was, it was nothing compared to the state of his bathroom. His twin stood in front of the mirror covering the expanse of the emerald green marbled wall between the sink and the ceiling with… was that _hair?_ All logic pointed to the bathroom floor being the final resting place of the building’s resident raccoon, but alas, clippings of Michael’s hair flared out across the champagne floor. The man himself faced Lucifer, the scissors caught in his hair reflected in the massive mirror.

“What in our father’s name are you doing?”

Michael gulped. “I want you to admit we’re related.”

“A very dynamic approach, hmm?” He sighed. Luckily, this was what having a cleaning service on call was for. _Brothers._

“Leave that for now,” Lucifer stepped forward to snag the scissors stuck in Michael’s curls. “Let’s start with something a little less damaging, shall we?”

“Of course. What did you have in mind?”

Lucifer grimaced at the patchy state of his brother's hair as Michael left the bathroom ahead of him.

Ten minutes later, Michael and Lucifer stood bickering in front of a full-length mirror in Lucifer’s expansive closet. The cushioned bench sat in the middle of the room with plush burgundy carpet beneath it, a semi-circle of rich mahogany wardrobes and shelves accented in gold reminiscent of the romantic era lined the walls. Track lights around the room spotlighted the two angels, both in designer suits.

Michael opened a panel of the sport coat to examine the silk design. “This is ostenta -”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

His brother had some brains after all. Silently, they gazed into the floor-length mirror. They had been hating each other for the span of many, many eras, but never took the time to reflect on their brotherhood. Similarities shone out from the reflection, not only from the designer suits, the dark hair, eyes, or expressions, but from their pride, anger, and _love_. It was there, whether they liked it or not. After all, the ones that can hurt the worst are the ones who have loved the most.

Clearing his throat, Lucifer joked, “I’m jealous of you. You have the best brother in the universe.”

Michael adjusted his jacket in the mirror. “Yes, Amenadiel had been quite the treasure since he came home.”

“Oh come now, give the Devil his due.”

* * *

 _I finally believed the rumors of how your auctions died when I saw you staring blankly into the darkened corner, whispering of light, of heaven, wings, and the Devil. Insanity. Delirium. I can understand in that respect, we are the same._ _Graven images of our Lord lined the walls, artifacts true and false used for monetary gain. You might as well have spit in the face of God himself. I couldn’t stop my shaking, seeing the obvious disregard you had for the creator. The time was near. I reached for my knife but it was gone._

_Gone._

_That was mine. Everything was red. Blackness crept in. But there was you sitting in the center of my sights. With a roar, I ripped a piece from one of your precious wooden relics and slammed it through the back of your neck. You ate it. I laughed when I came around to see my work, pieces of brainstem intermingling with splinters expectorating from your mouth. I couldn’t stop giggling as I stripped off another piece of wood to carve my message._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! If you haven't had a chance to read the full Ch 7 update, please go back and do so. It might make more sense. Unfortunately, there is no Lucifer, Chloe, Dan, Ella, Linda, Maze, or even Trixie in this chapter :( But please read on! I did it a little different this time :)  
> Disclaimer: Two lines by William Shakespeare and Martin Luther are thrown in here.  
> Chapter 8!

_ He did it again. _

_ I hid but he found me. He always found me.  _

_ I learned to hide in my mind. I had to, to actively dream of better places as the punishments ran down my arm, my leg, my scalp. _

_ I saw red. Literally. The blood was the sins of humanity fleeing my body. _

_ I would have done anything for him, but I always failed. Nothing was good enough. There was always a sin I overlooked, a commandment I broke. _

_ He couldn’t kill the demons of his mind. My father’s soul was already lost, but it wasn’t too late for mine.  _

* * *

_ Friendship was an abstract idea rather than a tangible thing. Circles formed around me as I aged, people moving from one herd to the next, ebbing and flowing like a mercurial puzzle as time elapsed. Hearts broke and new vows were made. But there was never a space for a puzzle piece of my shape. _

_ Not that I would have the desire to fit. _

_ The world was a dirty place. Greed, pride, and lust ran the world, tricking these sheep into breaking the most sacred of decrees. I paid my dues with blood, just as my father did before me. I transcended. _

* * *

_ The Sinnerman recognized that the laws of this earth were immaterial. Finally, a shepherd who valued the word of our higher power than the false word of this world. He ruled his life by the constitution of Cain and Abel, inflicting punishments reflective of the crime. This was a man I could follow into the dark. _

* * *

_ The AR-15 fit perfectly against my shoulder as I stood on the balcony. All it took was one gunshot from the Sinnerman to kill the woman, the officer aiming to bring us down. Her deadweight shot backward into her partner like a sack of bricks. But the man…. _

_ There was the signal. _

_ I squeezed the trigger and released the drum of bullets into the ground below, deafening me, and… blinding me? Light brighter than the sun burned the shape of wings into my cornea. Was he an angel?  _

_ My finger released the trigger on its own. How could I have found myself on the opposite side of the angels? For the first time since I saw my father’s knife as a child, my hands went clammy. My heart pumped. I didn’t know it was capable of doing so. The entire bottom floor of the loft was smoke and mirrors, bits of red peeking through. I couldn’t look anywhere else. I had to know. _

_ They were gone. _

_ My mouth went dry. _

_ Bursts of light and raining glass came from the towering windows at the converging staircase. My associates were running, and before I knew it, I was too. The man in black advanced with the avenging wings of the angel serving us the wrath of the heavens. Screams came from behind me, and soon one came from me. The staircase was unreachable. The balcony was too close, then beneath me. My stomach jolted. Then it was farther and farther above me… and blackness. _

_ Images flickered. _

_ The angel clashed with the Sinnerman. _

_ Pierce on his back, the being crouched over him. _

_ Red eyes. _

_ Charred skin. _

_ When my father said Hell is empty and all the devils are here, I believed him. And now, I have seen the proof. I knew this day would come. _

_ But I did not expect the right hand of the Devil. _

_ A woman. _

_ A cop. _

_ Walking down the stairs toward her partner, offering herself as a bride. A gift, wrapped in a pretty bow. _

_ My vision went dark. _

_ When I awoke, the white loft was empty. My head spun, but I was able to stand, leaning on pillars and stumbling around bodies. I heard my breaths echo in my ears as I panted toward the stairs, sirens and lights behind me. _

_ I was out. _

* * *

_ Our society continued to lean into the arms of the Devil. He had the police in his pocket, after all. For where God built a church, there the Devil would build a chapel. _

_ Sins need to be purged from the earth. _

_ The end is nigh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahhhh! Context! Hope you liked it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I apologize for the long wait, life has been crazy. Here's chapter 9!
> 
> Serial killer POV in italics at the beginning only. Skip if you need to!

_ Her beating heart pumped blood through your veins. How quickly you sold your soul for a few extra years on earth on the borrowed time of a dead woman’s organ. What claims do you have over it? It was never yours to take. _

_ It’s your time to cross over. Now, the heart is where it belongs, as is your soul. _

* * *

_ You girls, so innocent yet so guilty of hedonistic crimes. Obsession is never good, is it? Especially not when the ‘boys of your dreams’ are plastered across your bedroom walls while your bible lies gathering dust under your bed. How dare you hold other gods before Him? And yet the church receives you week after week, unknowing of your false witness. _

_ Neither the church nor the heavens will be receiving you after death. _

* * *

Chloe didn’t stop to look in the mirror before she left her apartment that morning, unknowingly looking as mismatched as her daughter would that day. With a huff, she collapsed in the driver’s seat of her cruiser. Three murders in one night. How many in total was it now? She did a mental tally, counting on her fingers… first on one hand, then onto the next...

_ Nine. _

What was the one left?

What would the killer do when it was over?

She clipped on her badge and gun as she looked through the windows toward the faint stars. It was still black outside. She groaned, not even remotely guilty of her selfish request for the murderer to wait a damn day or two. Or even until daylight. Switching her car into gear, she pulled away into the darkness.

It was 3:25 AM when she arrived at the public park. The body was found on a bench, head lolled off to the side, the ‘Exodus’ verse carved over his heart. Police spotlights at the scene set the shadows in stark contrast with the pallor of the dead man’s skin, giving the body an almost zombie-like appearance.

“Anonymous tip,” Officer Rodriguez said, walking up with a coffee in hand. “Probably from a drug dealer looking to do business.”

She looked around at the dark and empty park, the sound of crickets from the distant trees loud in her ears. “Yeah, not surprised,” she said, glancing at his to-go cup. “Is that for me?”

“Not a chance, Decker,” he snorted. “But I think Lopez might be willing to donate.”

Turning toward the flashing lights of the cop cars, Chloe found Ella opening the trunk of her car for her professional-grade camera, thermos slung over her shoulder. Bags of various degrees of overflow littered the inside of her trunk, one with files sticking out from between the clasps.

“Thanks,” she gave him a nod, heading toward her friend setting up her camera under the lights.

Chloe trudged to her car. “Glad you got the call.”

Ella snorted. “Yeah, I’m not.” Without Chloe even having to ask, Ella put down her camera to pour a small capful of coffee for the detective. “Anything new with this one?”

“He’s escalating. Killed three people last night.” She sighed, taking the small silver cup. “He isn’t using his knife, either.”

“Wait, back up. Three murders?”

“Yep.”

It was silent for a few moments as they sipped their coffees, their faces reflecting the flashing red and blue of the police cars surrounding them.

“Shit.”

Chloe blew on her coffee. “Yep.”

The next couple of hours were a blur. Time lapsed as rapidly as a movie montage with Chloe and Ella moving around the scene, early morning runners slowing to take a peek, and cops hustling to and fro. Before Chloe knew it, she was heading to her cruiser to head back to the precinct.

“I gotta stop at the other crime scenes,” Ella said as she packed her camera equipment. “I’ll see you there.”

* * *

An elephant stepped on Dan’s chest, otherwise known as the full weight of his daughter body-slamming him five minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. 

“Oof,” he buckled inwards.

“Dad! Dad! Daddy!” 

“What, what, what?” he muttered into his pillow before rolling over to find his daughter propped up in bed next to him, toothy grin revealing the new growth of her canine. She was fully dressed in a colorfully striped tee and mismatching neon purple corduroys. Behind her, red chucks flew back and forth with the excitable wiggle of her feet.

“Ella’s here!”

His head fell back against the pillows.  _ Why?  _ Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Tell her I’m coming.”

A few minutes later, the pajama-clad detective wandered into the kitchen with freshly brushed teeth to find Ella teaching Trixie a hand-clapping game. Trixie was giggling, catching on quickly.

“Mornin’ Ella. Coffee?” He held up the empty pot before measuring out his dose of caffeine for the day.

She looked up from her game with Trixie. “Sure, anything is better than whatever shit we have at the station.”

The kitchen was silent aside from Trixie’s clambering to find her cereal, fortunately not the sugary cookie breakfast found at Chloe’s. The coffee began to percolate as Dan walked over to sit opposite Ella on the sofa.

“So,” he began, looking at Ella expectantly. 

“Right,” she started, shuffling to open the buckles of her satchel. “So, finding that print gave me some other ideas. Um…” she continued to look through multiple files stuffed in her bag.

“Did you get another match?”

“Wait,” she held up a finger. “Here it is.” 

Handing him a file, she continued. “Chloe asked me to look into that first scene again, the one with the peeping teenager? We went through the boy’s house for prints and fibers, et cetera, but we never talked to the neighbors.”

She pointed to the file as Dan opened it. “That’s the history on the woman he was creeping on. Apparently, her family abused her as a child. She was in and out of the foster system for years before she went off to college. If you look here…” 

She shuffled through the papers in his hand to look for the medical record. “At her first home, after she was taken away from her bio parents, they had a physical done with their pediatrician. Read this.”

Dan looked down at the description underneath the drawn image of a sexless body meant for indicating locations of pain or injuries. The document was a copy of a copy, old and barely legible. Faded marks covered the underside of the pictured body’s arms and upper back. But there, at the bottom, a few words stuck out. He had to squint to see: “scars,” “wounds,” and most importantly, an unfinished description of the scratches, “Exod-”. 

His mouth went dry. God bless Ella.

“How did you get this?”

“I called.” She smiled innocently. “I said I was a member of the LAPD. It wasn’t a lie.”

“Uh-huh,” he closed the file with one hand as his smile grew, and wavered. “Have you mentioned this to Chloe?”

Ella’s face fell. “Not yet, she doesn’t know this guy was at Pierce’s crime scene. I’m not sure how to… well, you know.” She bit her lip.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her. But first, grab your coffee.” Reaching up to ruffle his bedhead, Dan sighed. He stood from the couch and moved toward his bedroom.

“Cups are to the right,” Dan gestured. “Pour me one too, I gotta get ready to go.”

“You got it, sir!”

“And Ella?” He called from behind the door.

“Yeah?”

“The LAPD is nothing without you.”

She reached toward the coffee pot to refill her thermos, grinning.

* * *

Chloe sat down at her desk after following up with the detective who examined the other bodies, both teenage girls found in the same bedroom with their own verses. At least she didn’t wake up to a phone call about that sleepover gone wrong. She sighed in relief. “Okay, so…” she whispered to herself, pulling up the browser on the computer. “Which verse do we have left?”

Pulling out a pen and paper, she went down the list, making notes and crossing off items. Nine of the ten were eliminated, leaving one left. 

_ Thou shalt not kill. _

Possibilities of victims swam through her mind.  _ Would he commit suicide? _ She almost hoped that to be the case. Even though he wouldn’t be facing criminal justice, no one else would get killed. After all, what if he started on the seven deadly sins next? She shivered, but a new presence at her desk put an end to her thoughts.

“Hey Chlo,” Dan tapped the spine of an old file on her desk. “I gotta talk to you.”

She eyed him sideways. “About what?”

“Follow me.” He jerked his head toward the viewing room next to interrogation.

She rolled her eyes before shoving herself up and away from her desk, keeping up with Dan’s footsteps. Unwelcome tension sat in his shoulders, but she was sure she was the only one who could see it, thanks to their history. The unknowing precinct around them persisted at its normal pace as they passed.

Dan turned around as the door clanged shut behind him, hitting the file against his other palm and avoiding her gaze. 

“So, what’s this about?” She crossed her arms.

He took a breath. “Ella and I found a few pieces of information that may help us, but…”

“...but what?”

Dan chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He - he was one of Pierce’s men.”

A sudden coldness swept through her body. 

“How… how do you know this?”

“You know the knife you found? Ella matched the fingerprint to one of the guns at the loft. He had to have been there. Must’ve gotten away.”

She swiveled to peer through the one-way glass, hand moving absentmindedly to her mouth. What had he seen? Lucifer’s wings? Lucifer’s  _ face _ ? Her eyes darted back and forth as quickly as her mind raced. Is this why he was killing people who disobeyed the commandments? Ridding the world of what he thought was the damned?

_ Thou shalt not kill. _

He didn’t just see Lucifer’s face. He saw the Devil himself kill Pierce, his boss.

_ He’s coming for the sinner of all sinners, Lucifer himself. _

Lucifer wasn’t infallible. She shot the man - Devil - herself and was wearing the offending bullet around her neck. If the killer was at the scene, he saw for himself that Lucifer could bleed. Her mouth went dry.

She pulled out her phone and dialed. It was ringing…

_ And ringing… _

“Come on Lucifer,” she muttered as she paced. “Pick up pick up pick up…”

_ And ringing… _

She looked up at Dan whose eyes reflected the same worry coursing through her. Right as her heart was about to explode from her chest, the familiar voice came through the phone.

“Detective, to what do I owe this early morning pleasure?” 

“Hey,” she responded, relief flooding her voice. 

“Are you quite alright?”

He seemed alert enough, remaining tendrils of sleep slowly leaving his body. She checked her watch. 6:30 AM. Not exactly the devil’s hour. She covered her pumping heart with her hand. “Yes, yes I’m fine.”

She made eye contact with Dan as she talked through the phone, “Can you come down to the station?”

“Ask and ye shall receive.”

She cracked a small smile. “See you soon.”

Placing the phone in her pocket, she spoke to Dan. “He’s on his way.”

* * *

Ella almost always had her laboratory blinds open at the precinct. After all, there was an abundance of goings-on going on she couldn’t miss. Last she looked, Joe from environmental services was delightedly discovering a $100 bill in the vending machine, and Lucifer was surreptitiously leaning a hair’s-breadth over Chloe as she browsed the computer. Not that the detective minded, Ella was sure. The lab was her front-row seat to the LAPD soap opera.

Unfortunately, her blinds have remained closed since then for productivity’s sake… which was terrible for her inquiring mind (“metiche” as her Abuelita liked to call it). This morning was the first day in weeks she revealed the outside world if only just to let in the morning light she was lacking at the start of this godforsaken day.

“Mierda,” she muttered as she sifted through the evidence. As much as she loved her job, searching through the nearest trash can at the park on three hours of sleep was not her ideal day. She wrinkled her nose at a murky substance oozing down decaying banana peels and clusters of maggots.  _ Ugh _ . Taking off her gloves, she leaned against the edge of the table to catch up on this week’s soap opera, the hard metal biting into the small of her back. She heaved a sigh as she surveyed the routines of the vibrant life around her, ignorant of her investigative eyes.

She sipped her third coffee (one for each crime scene, being the excuse), and promptly spat it out at the sight that met her eyes. 

Lucifer descended the stairs dressed to the nines, hair immaculately gelled, and cufflinks perfectly adjusted. But that was old-hat, and not what caused the sudden expulsion from Ella’s mouth.

A second Lucifer walked down with him. 

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she stared. They weren’t mirrored images.  _ Not double vision then... _ she thought as she rubbed her lower back where the table dug in. She bent a blind and squinted through the small slit. While Lucifer ‘one’ strutted in his Burberry, Lucifer ‘two’ fiddled with the jacket of his Ermenegildo Zegna. But besides their appearance, they had one main thing in common: both immediately routed themselves to Chloe’s desk. Ella snorted.

She took one last sip of her coffee before bursting out of the lab, the open blinds clanging against the metal door as she made her way out into the fray. The brothers’ bickering voices grew louder as she approached. They slapped at each other’s hands, playing keep-away from the curled tips (and bald patch?) of Lucifer ‘two’s’ hair. She stopped five feet away with her jaw slack, staring.

There was no way Lucifer had a twin.

No. Freaking. Way.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the two. Both Lucifers stared back, Lucifer ‘one’ rubbing his cheek from the sting of an unsuspected slap.

“Hello, Ms. Lopez.”

“Uh hi, Lucifer…” She looked toward his doppelganger, unsure. “I’m assuming?”

“Yes,” he rubbed his palms together as if floundering to find a way to keep this meeting from happening. “Might I introduce my brother, Michael.”

The other man stiffly reached his hand out in anticipation of a handshake. 

Ella uncharacteristically took a few seconds to examine Michael. He was stiff, barely blinked, and didn’t smile as he reached out for her hand. It’s as if he’d only just learned what a handshake was. How awkward. But he must be something, Ella reasoned, having to deal with this ageless juvenile twin his entire life. And, any friend of Lucifer’s was a friend of hers.

“Michael!” She burst out. “Bring it in, buddy.”

Swatting the hand aside, she snatched him around the middle and squeezed, faintly hearing Lucifer’s whisper, “Put your arms around her.” If she had a guess, Lucifer was behind her mimicking a hug for Michael’s sake.

Just like his brother, it took a few seconds for the man to realize what was happening. But when Michael finally came around and wrapped her in his arms, it was at that moment Ella experienced the best hug of her life, better than the smell of cookies in the oven or the memory of her Abuelita's cooking. It reminded her of home. The warmth of his body encompassed her, squeezing tightly. She was floating. She inhaled his scent, Lucifer’s cologne made unique by Michael. It was heady.

She didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t either, she suspected, as Lucifer had to touch his shoulder to guide him away. She looked up through her lashes to meet his eyes, neither of them fully relinquishing their hold.

“I’m Ella,” she said, breathless.

“Ella. It’s nice to meet you.” He looked right through her. “I’m Michael.”

Boy, did she get a wrong first impression. As she searched his familiar face, she could see the differences between the two clear as day. If Lucifer wasn’t here, she could see how Michael could exude a quiet confidence, broken only by Lucifer’s irritating ability to push his buttons. She giggled at the thought.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, quit ogling each other before I develop IBS.”

He stalked toward Chloe’s desk before they could respond.

Ella looked down at her arms partly wrapped around Michael’s waist and pulled away as if burned. She looked away, scratching under her ponytail. “Uh yeah,” she said. “Serial killer, you know. Gotta get a move on.”

Michael’s empty arms were still held out in front of him hugging only an echo of Ella’s frame, face blank. “Right.”

She glanced over at the forms of Chloe, Lucifer, and Dan deep in discussion before looking down to trace the tiles on the floor with her toes. “Would you, um, like to help?”

He blinked. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Come with me.” She took his arm and chattered away as she guided him to her lab, incredibly happy she decided to open her blinds that day.

* * *

Chloe stood behind her desk with the files open before her and a headache pounding throughout her skull. Definitely not enough coffee this morning, but that was the least of her worries. 

“He’s after Lucifer.”

Dan huffed, but to Chloe, Lucifer looked a little too pleased.

“Little old me?” He grinned.

Dan curled his lip in disdain. “What makes you say that?”

Chloe and Lucifer briefly made eye contact before she looked away, more interested in lining up pencils on her desk than participating in this conversation. “Well,” Chloe cleared her throat. “If he’s super religious, he must have heard Pierce calling Lucifer by his name. He probably believes he’s actually the Devil.”

Both Lucifer and Dan scoffed, speaking over each other: “Because I am -” “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah well, he hasn’t exactly convinced me he’s sane,” Chloe said, ignoring Lucifer.

“Fair enough.” Dan put a hand on his hip. “So, what do we do?”

“Well, we give him what he desires.” The two turned to look at Lucifer, Chloe’s eyes drilling deep.

“You are not baiting him Lucif -”

“Well not  _ me _ ,” he said, turning toward the open blinds of the lab. “I say we use the tools we have.”

The two followed his gaze to find Michael earnestly enraptured in what must have been an educational session with their dear laboratory analyst. His eyes were bright with breaths coming out in laughter, unknowing of the sacrifice he was so willingly offered to be.

Dan raised his eyebrows. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

Lucifer pulled away from the file aggressively shoved in his face. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Lucifer, can I talk to you?” Chloe interjected, looking at Dan. “Alone?”

Dan shook his head and stalked away muttering.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve been alone together since the ‘incident’, but now every moment was met with fresh eyes. Yes, he was her consultant, but he was so much more. He was  _ powerful _ . The Devil was part of every religion, myth, and legend spoken from generation to generation, and here she was standing in front of him. In charge.

“Look Lucifer, we need to think of something else.” She sighed as she closed her eyes, seeing the bloody feathers floating down. “Remember, you’re not invulnerable.”

“Yes, but only when -”

“I don’t care. You’re going to be on lockdown for as long as it takes until this is over.”

“But Detective -”

“No buts.”

A whooshing sensation breezed through her abdomen as soon as he slammed his mouth shut. Of all the people in the world, how did she end up being able to command the Devil?

He sighed. “What about Michael?”

“Look, I can’t just throw him in there. It would never get approved. And I sure as hell am not putting you at risk as my…” Her eyes widened in shock at her mouth’s betrayal.

He cocked a brow, placing both hands in his pockets. “Your…?”

“My consultant,” her pitch raised, arms crossed.

He stepped closer. “Of course, I could never imagine putting you in that… position.”

His chest was inches away from her, his lips inches from her forehead. The heat from his body seeped into her core. 

She cleared her throat. “Well, let’s figure out what to do with you in the meantime, hmm?”

“Yes, let’s.” A salacious grin formed on his face. “Whatever shall we do?”

“Uh, your penthouse. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Oh, lucky me.” His eyes glinted. “And my brother?”

She looked over to the Lucifer duplicate staring wide-eyed at Ella as she talked with her hair and hands flying. “He looks like he’s being taken care of. Besides, he can’t be killed.”

Lucifer looked affronted as he trailed after her form. “Detective!”

* * *

The gleam from the single dimmed light in the dining room barely reached two feet outside the window, leaving Maze perfectly hidden in the blackness. To the inhabitants, it was a quiet night with the crickets unusually silent. They should have heeded that warning. 

She could smell him from outside. Grinning, she clicked open the window silently, stepping into the perfectly designed house straight out of Pinterest. Barn doors separating the living room from the kitchen were slid to the side to give her a view into the completely gray open concept. Nothing here.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled to allow the stench to lead the way. Slowly, she found her way to the stairs. It was getting thicker. Heavier. More  _ satisfying _ as she climbed.

The bedroom door was already open, inviting her to step in. A typical couple was tucked beneath the covers. Both were snoring, the man’s feet hanging off the side. Maze drew her brows together. 

Creeping closer, she stood above the woman. This was where it was coming from, but it was still faint, even less so than the empty house. How did it lead her here?

The woman snorted as she adjusted, her stretched out arm nearly touching Maze’s thigh. Moonlight illuminated scars across her inner bicep. Words: “Exodus”, it read.

Maybe Lucifer wasn’t wrong after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She kissed me.  
> She kissed the devil.  
> Only a beautiful soul like hers would  
> Kiss the damned.
> 
> -Daniel Saint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! This chapter is ALLLLLLL SMUT.
> 
> Lemons and sweet lemonade galore ahead. IF it's not your thing, you're good to read approximately the first third of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you for being amazing! As always, friendly comments and constructive criticism are so welcome.

Traffic.

If Chloe didn’t have the Devil himself sitting next to her, she might have claimed it was the bane of her existence, but alas, his presence took the cake. The man in question sat in her passenger seat tapping his fingers to an imaginary tune staring out the window.

That was the only sound in the car, outside of the distant horns.

She drummed her thumb against the steering wheel to match the beat of his song as all of the taillights in her sight turned red in waves. The ebb and flow of the red lights mesmerized her as they stopped and went, lulling her into a daze in the afternoon heat.

“Is this what hell is like?”

Lucifer’s head turned, all tapping ceased. “For some, I’m sure.”

Chloe stepped on her brakes for the umpteenth time, slowing to an agonizing three miles per hour.

“What do you mean?”

He turned back toward his window. “Hell is designed around the individual. Everyone’s experience is unique to them, targeted at their guilt and their fears. Consider it a first-class service.”

“Oh.” She hit the brakes again, this time slowing to a complete stop. “How do you determine who goes to hell and who doesn’t?”

“I don’t.” His voice became thicker. “You all do.”

The cars ahead of her began to move again. Chloe slowly accelerated, finally seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The frequency of red lights became less and less, pulling her from her hypnotized state, and away from the conversation.

_ ‘You all do’, _ Chloe ruminated on his last words as the city passed by at increasing speeds.  _ I am separate from him. _

This was not new information to Chloe, yet a spear drove itself through her heart all the same. Lucifer was a powerful being older than time, something she often chose to forget. How could they ever have had a chance? Who was she to someone like him? _ We are not the same.  _

The ache remained as reliably steady as the beating of her heart. And yet she drove on. 

Before they knew it, Lux loomed ahead. Chloe sighed in relief at the anticipation of ending the car ride, not that it would mean a break from Lucifer. No, they had the whole night ahead of them, and who knew how much longer. 

Chloe quickly found her designated parking spot, as deemed so by the immortal being sitting next to her, and turned off her engine. The sounds outside were dampened, made even more so by the blankness of the concrete around them. She turned toward her partner, the shuffling of her clothes broke the dead quiet.

He was smiling. She thought so at least, it was hard to tell with the shadow of the concrete beam concealing half his features.

She eyed him sideways. “What?”

“You.”

_ Me. _ “What about me?” Her ponytail slid across her collarbone as she tilted her head.

His eyes darkened as they followed the movement of her hair. “Incredible,” he whispered.

The pulsing pain in her chest evaporated as quickly as it had arrived. The giddiness she hadn’t felt since before Dan fluttered within, butterflies threatening to come out. He was all she could see. How could he have such an effect on her? Grace, beauty, carnal desire. Even under the shadows, he was light. Under the layers of cool extravagance, he was warmth, and under the facades, he was truth in essence. 

His eyes traveled over her form slowly, leaving her as if she was laid bare before him. If only she could hear his thoughts. She rarely had to guess, but this time she desperately wanted - no, needed - to know. 

A car door slammed just several feet away.

Chloe jerked her head toward the sound, interrupting the edgy silence and, to her relief, eliminating any risk of her exposing wanton thoughts. Lucifer didn’t seem to care, as his gaze remained resolute.

“Well,” she muttered, “we’d better go.”

He walked beside her with his hands in his pockets, the direct and clear-eyed gaze was passionately attentive, scratching away at the thin wall she haphazardly erected after leaving the car.

The heat of the dim elevator lights bore down upon her almost as intense as Lucifer’s scrutiny. Chloe glanced over her shoulder in the hopes that his covetous eyes found another subject, yet his chocolate eyes became hot and predatorial. Her breath caught in her throat. He was still, a single hand resting in his pants pocket, his free hand tapping a rhythm against the champagne wall of the elevator rising through the shaft (not quickly enough, to Chloe’s chagrin). She stiffened at his unabashed stare and returned his look with her own steadfast gaze across her shoulder.

The ‘ _ ding _ ’ of the elevator was the final interruption needed to break Lucifer of his reverie. “Shall we?” he gestured outward, eyes never leaving hers.

She cleared her throat and headed toward the bar, elevator doors closing behind her and the presence of Lucifer so ever-constantly flittering behind.

“Drink?” He offered, pulling off his suit coat and depositing it across the length of the bar.

_ Oh fuck, yes.  _ “Sure,” she responded with forced casualness.

Chloe made her way over as she watched his deft hands pour a glass of whiskey most likely priced higher than the cost of her apartment. The quick brush of his hands as he rested the drink within her palms elicited a traitorous gasp from her lips, and a tingling steadily coursing southward.

_ Goddammit, Chloe _ , she admonished herself.  _ You are here to protect him _ .

She swallowed.

“So.” She sipped.

“So.” He did as well.

Lucifer’s eyes met hers, but she couldn’t reciprocate anymore, no matter how desperately she desired to.

When she’d first made her escape from the loft, she had only one goal in mind: to keep her and her daughter safe from the Devil himself. Through the frenzy, she never gave him the benefit of the doubt. She never considered refuting the slander against him. And here she was in his home, acting as if it never happened. 

The bitterness of the drink scoured her system, and she continued to drink and drink and drink as if the liquid could purge her of the guilt and self-hatred eating away at her gut. How could she stand in the home of someone she had once loved and betrayed? How had he accepted her despite the fact? She grimaced at the bitter aftertaste, deserving of every bit of misery it dealt.

Chloe slammed her empty glass onto the bar. Fresh air. That’s what she needed. She gracelessly moved her way toward the balcony, but she didn’t get very far.

“Detective?” 

She could see the clear blue sky and the start of the sun’s descent, its rays beaming a kaleidoscope of colors through the wall of glass. Despite the direction of her gaze, she was all too aware of Lucifer’s presence looming closer, the soft touch of his hand against her wrist lightly drawing a line to her fingertips, uprooting her from her destination. 

Her eyes met his, furrowed brows reflecting his unsaid question. Hope and trust exuded from him. Is this the look he gave his father before God himself ordered his expulsion from his home? Is this what Michael saw before shoving his brother off the heavenly plane, past the mortal coil and into the lake of fire? Shame and contempt blazed through her, burning at the very touch of his fingers never leaving hers.

But she didn’t let go.

Chloe drew her eyes downward and lingered on his lips, her own parting as warmth flowed through her body. She sucked in a breath. No matter how many times he was beaten, broken, betrayed, or whatever horrors he tried to hide behind his bravado, he could still love. And he loved her.

They moved into each other at the same time.

Their kiss was frantic and angry, reflecting all the words left unsaid. Frustration streamed through them as he pressed her against his priceless Bösendorfer, the quiet interrupted only by barely restrained moans and gasps. She hardly registered the pain of the piano digging into her in her heady state as their mouths moved against each other, bodies molding together, the tautness of his thighs pressing into the spreading heat between her legs. 

All too soon he pulled back gasping, eyes of hot embers boring into her, questioning. His gaze was the spark to set her soul on fire, leaving her wanting rather than afraid as she stared back in answer. Her pulse quickened as she pulled him back to her, desperate mouths clashing. 

His arm snaked behind her to lift her onto the piano, never letting her lips go. She acquiesced, wrapping her legs around his hips. His stiffness pressed against her, leaving her without a doubt as to his intentions. Slowly, his lips sank lower and lower, Chloe tilting her neck to expose as much skin as she could to his ministrations. But it wasn’t enough for either of them. 

“Too many clothes,” she groaned between kisses.

“You read my mind,” he smiled into her lips as he worked the buttons of her shirt. 

She knew she wanted him to undress her, she dreamed about him stripping her of clothing layer by layer, reverently, worshipping every scar and stretch mark with his lips as he went. But knowing it was going to happen was an entirely different matter. She pulled away to cover her cleavage revealed by her partially unbuttoned top. Here she was, a mother, a cop, with her boring beige bra with no attempt to match her panties, about to sleep with the most eligible bachelor of LA. Breathing heavily, she glanced up. His knuckles brushed against her cheek, his eyes drinking her in as if she were a sweet and priceless wine.

“Incredible,” he whispered.

She whimpered as her mouth attacked his without inhibition. Their fervor mounted, their intensity conveying every bit of tacit affection suppressed for the past five years. His hand tore at her shirt, eradicating not only her top but every sense of self-condemnation either of them endured. Her nipples strained against the thin fabric remaining, heaving chest pressing against his, not nearly naked enough for her liking.

“Wait,” she panted. “Your turn.”

He ran his fingers lightly between her breasts, over the only piece of clothing separating her from him. “As you desire, detective.”

A thrill ran through her as she fingered the hem of his collar. Slowly, she stepped from the piano and ran her lips down the inches of skin exposed with each new unclasped button. His breaths were shallow, the unhurried pace a far cry from Lucifer’s desires as she teased, his hands curling into her hair in desperation of the passion he craved. She stopped at his buckle to look up.

Red irises set in black sclera bore through her.

A familiar wave of anticipation washed over her, but not in fear or anxiety, but  _ desire _ . He reached down to cup her chin, command her up toward his lips, her panties slick against her core as she stood, and without sealing the kiss, gently guided her with only a touch of his fingertips to the bedroom.

Her heart pounded against her chest as he tenderly laid her on the silk sheets. Closing her eyes, his lips explored her body as he reached under her to unclasp the offending bra and throw it to the side, catching on the lamp beside the bed. Her nipples were cold and hard against the open air. She needed his touch. She craved his touch. But it didn’t come.

“Lucifer….”

Above his straddled form, the ceiling mirror reflected her flushed skin and swollen lips but failed to reflect the yearning connecting the two of them. She moaned as heat and wet and energy covered a single breast, the flickering of his tongue making her wish it was somewhere else. He kneaded, lightly brushed, licked, and softly kissed her nipples with tender care, handcuffing her hands with his to the surface of the bed as he serviced her.

Suddenly, it went cold again. He moved to tear the horribly tight fabric from her lower half, her shoes clunking to the ground. She assisted by wriggling, his hands moved tantalizingly toward her heat, unbuttoning and unzipping and pulling and baring her.

She should have felt vulnerable as she watched him stand above her, the only protection being the moist panties barely hiding her stretch marks from birthing almost ten years ago. As he explored her, pliable hands moving across her body, a finger hooked around the last remaining piece of fabric and wrenched. He took in a sharp breath at her naked form. 

“Chloe…” he breathed.

Hearing her name made the desire at the base of her spine quiver. His eyes lit up as if he was witnessing the formation of his first star, the brightness and greatness incomparable. He trailed his hands from her knees inward, asking for permission. She granted it, opening her legs and laying backward to witness her own satisfaction in the ceiling above, chest heaving, thighs tightening.

For the first time in their partnership, she allowed herself to be powerless with him. His adept fingers explored her body as he teased her with his tongue. She arched her back, muscles rippling beneath his fingers, nipples hardening as his tongue slid home. She opened her mouth in a silent moan at the sudden pleasure, gripping his hair as he worked at his pace. She ached for satisfaction, for fulfillment, and his as well. Above her, the image of his head between her legs sent another pulse scorching to her core. Her legs twitched inward. With a frustrated groan, he took her behind the knees and pressed out, leaving her completely at the mercy of his mouth. Releasing her leg from confinement, his fingers slid easily inside her, massaging as her whimpers grew. She was breathless, panting, eager for the thrumming under his tongue to grow as he circled her entrance, the curl of her craving fighting for release. He never relented as she greeted her first orgasm with a dampened cry.

Her prolonged pulsing against his nimble fingers was either torture or ecstasy, of which she could never decide, face tingling, hips bucking as she came down from the closest to heaven she could reach.

She was still shaking, reveling in the ecstasy that was him as he crawled up toward her in the shadows, licking her come off his lips. She took breaths as if he put fire in her lungs as she pulled his lips toward her own, tasting the exhilarating tang of her own desire.

“Little minx,” he murmured against her smile. Her hands found a home flat against his stomach, descending to cup his stiff arousal through the fabric. 

“I want these off.”

His trousers hit the floor next to her jeans as his throbbing cock broke free. The growing head brushed her inner thighs and teased over her sex, hard and patient and warm as he returned to her, panting. He kissed her, deeply, wanting, as if her essence could fill any emptiness within him, only pulling away to rest his forehead against hers. 

“What is it you desire?” he breathed.

Chloe cupped his cheek in her hand as their eyes met. “You,” she whispered, brushing stray curls from his brown eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

Before he could respond, she tightened her hand around his length and rocked her body against him in rhythm with her quickening fingers, the dark peaks of her nipples jouncing directly within his sight. He bit down on his own tongue, eyes darkening and turning red, lusting and wanting and finally having his own deeply hidden desire within his reach.

She cried out as he thrust into her dripping tightness as if this one moment could sustain him for millennia, as if her love could make music where there would be none in Hell. He whispered her name as if in prayer as they moved fluidly together as one. Limbs tangled, she arched her back desperate for more, for deeper, for harder. To show him no matter how often she broke him, she was finally here to piece him back together, for good.

He was all that mattered.

In a swift show of possessiveness, Chloe turned and flipped him on his back, holding his head down firmly by his hair to leave his neck exposed, and slowly grinding against the engorged tip of his dick. He sucked in through his teeth as she opened up to his sensitive shaft. It didn’t take long for her composure to begin to fracture, only needing his gentle caress to set her free.

“Touch me,” she whimpered.

With a lick to his thumb, the warmth of his fingers to her clit sent her tumbling over the edge, their chorus of moans mingling together as her spasms rolled through, the waves taut around his dick, fucking her from beneath through her second release.

She was sticky and sweaty and in love, her hand pressed against his chest sensing the pace of his heart, their bodies surging with mutual desire as he rose to kiss her and she continued to rock into him. He found her hips with his hands as he took control from below. 

“Detective,” he hummed. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The sound of her name made her collapse into him. All she could see was the sweat beading across his stomach, the desperate hiss from his lips, the dilation of his pupils as he moved within her. With a quick turn, she found herself flat on her back again, however with no view of the mirrored ceiling in sight.

White feathers filled her vision as his shoulders rolled and wings unfolded.

She gasped at the vision, his divinity he was so unsure of exposed in a moment of ecstasy. With her. Reaching up, she brushed her fingers along the soft plumage eliciting a hitched breath from her partner as he thrust slow and steady. Chloe could feel herself bottoming out for the third time, but it was his turn to close his eyes and clutch against her as he came, soft and steady and with an unearthly moan, his wings shuddering at his pleasure, only pushing him further at her simultaneous final cry of euphoria.

Her body ached for him, twitching in the after-effects of their orgasms, his cock still inside her as he panted, wings stretched high above. Lucifer’s face fell into her neck, muttering a mix of languages she would never understand in between breaths. Collapsing next to her, he looked to her as if she were his lifeline in turbulent waters, reaching up to curl his hand in hers. 

The only sounds in the room were their ragged breaths heaving under the shadow of his towering wing.

“Lucifer.”

“Hmm?” he greeted, pressing soft kisses into her shoulder.

“I love you,” she breathed, eyes closing.

He stilled his caresses as she drifted off in his arms. “And I you, detective.”

The setting sun cast a soft glow through the black curtains. Like a cocoon, he swept his wing over her in warmth as they allowed sleep to take them together. 


End file.
